Harry Potter: Abysmal
by LordFira
Summary: At the end of the triwizard tournament, during Voldemort's Cruciatus Harry decides he is tired of being weak. He is tired of being a pawn, he is tired of being used. He doesn't think anything will happen but a voice answers, giving him hope for something different. Hope for power; regardless of how malevolent and dark it is. (Dark/Evil Harry) (Pairings TBD)
1. Chapter 1

I do not OWN Harry potter.

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 **A/N: So this is something I have been thinking about for a short while, a Harry goes dark fanfiction. I've always wanted to do one and finally decided that 2016 was the time to do it. In this Harry will become one with the Horcrux, but he is going to have to deal with his lingering humanity and what connects him to those that were once important. Yes, he is going to be much more powerful, he is going to understand at an accelerated rate, and he is not going to play many games, unless it makes him feel some kind of satisfaction. But I intend on making it much more believable.**

 **There will be moments that he doesn't understand just how he understands something, but he will accept it and study it, owing it to the merger. There is no more voice since he has merged with Harry. I will at times refer to the merger as old young mind or vice-versa. At times I may call him the new Harry or Post Merger Harry; who knows.**

I have decided that Harry will be a true parselmouth, by that I mean its in his blood. Its not something that was transferred through Voldemorts soul piece.

I don't have any pairings as of yet since its still a new idea whilst I recoup from surgery.

Cold/Calculating Harry

Malevoloent/Cruel Harry

In this Dumbledore isn't evil, just misguided and secretive to a fault.

"regular speech"

'Thought'

- **Parselmouth** -

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 **Prologue i.e. The Beginning.**

 **Abysmal.**

In the moments that the cruciatus had struck him, his mind had fluttered to unconsciousness. Vaguely aware of his livid thrashing, he thought:

Fear.

Anger.

Hate.

Sadness.

The plethora of emotions. He had felt them many times, but remained of the mind that emotions could lead you to disaster. But, alas he was human. Bound by these same emotions that drove everyone around him. But why was he forever slated to relieve this abysmal feeling, this longing for all to end and leave him wandering in the bleak silence of nothing? He wanted to escape, he wanted to go, leave it all behind him.

"Then go…" A faint voice echoed in the distance of his unconscious mind, a subtle reverberation as his mind's eye searched for its bearer.

"Who is that?" He questioned, timidly. His voice softer than a nervous whisper.

"I am you, and strangely enough, I am also me." It replied as its ethereal existence congealed from smoke and vapor, solidifying into the figure of a man, clad in shadow and malice. His red eyes burned like a flame, the smell of sulfur reached his nose as his consciousness's reality bent to its will. A small, careful smile crept along its nefariously handsome face, eyes like brimstone and flame piercing Harry.

"You want to escape?"

"Yes."

"You want the power to escape?"

"Yes."

"Then you need only reach to me and I will give it to you."

Looking down, sullenly bemused, the boy spoke. "Power to stand up for myself? Power to never feel like I'm nothing, less than nothing? Power to never be the Dursley's house boy, errand boy, whipping boy? Power to do what I want, what I need to do? Power to get me away from here, make me stronger?"

A sinister smile crossed the beings face as his eyes burned brighter, teeth glistening in the faint light of their shared mind. "I will give you all that and more. Become one with me, you will never be found wanting."

An ethereal vision of how Harry perceived himself appeared before the being, stepping from nothing as the intangible figure stared up at the man, his green eyes searching for something, everything, those young and somber pupils dilating slightly as they met the burning gaze of the man before him. A devil incarnate. His hand extended slowly, demurely as the man watched with a sated apprehension. He didn't know what would happen, but his hunger, their hunger would be indulged as he could wait no more. His hand snapped forward and grabbed the boys, pulling him to him as his arms enveloped the young man. Silence was borne between the pair as they were enveloped in a wave of brilliant red and white light, only two faint shadows left in their wake as the two shadows slowly but surely became one.

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To say Voldemort was surprised was an understatement.

He lay on the ground, gingerly reassuring himself that this newly formed body held the physical strength and fortitude to survive something like that. His death eaters slowly began to rise from the ground as well, some muttering in wonder as others remained clearly dazed.

For the life of him, he could not understand what had happened.

Amid that interminable cruciatus he had cast on the boy, a resounding clap of sound had deafened them, before the boy and his deceased accomplice vanished in a vein of black and green light. Amidst the impossibility of the situation, Voldemort had felt something achingly familiar. It had felt as if for the briefest of moments he was assaulted by a distant fear and a sudden reassurance, but it had all been snatched away as whatever power had existed echoed into ambivalence as the boy disappeared. On the cusp of his revival, he felt as if something had changed, and that change was ominously foreboding as he remembered with an acute clarity his pursuit of immortality and the lengths he had gone.

"My horcruxes." He mumbled to himself, his voice so low and discernible that no one could hear what he had said as he had lifted himself from the ground, his tall lithe form standing at his full height as he stared at where Harry had been.

They would have to be checked on.

His keen mind was already whirling, coming to conclusions, theories passing by as he knew one thing for certain, that amidst the sound and brilliance of that foreboding light, something had happened. Something he didn't understand had been borne from a reaction of magic that he was hard pressed to comprehend, let alone formulate a cognizant answer and rebuttal.

He didn't like it.

Too much lay in the unknown as it was, and this, whatever it was; this feeling he had was not something he would pretend to entertain.

"Much is to come." He said softly, his voice a whisper on the wind, slithering, volatile and capricious. Its vehement hatred didn't go unnoticed by his followers as each nodded their understanding. Something had happened…and their master didn't like it.

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In the seconds between apparition and dissaparition, two became one. Green eyes lost their youthful vibrancy, fogged by hatred and malice and encumbered by strength, as red washed over the nubile color, swallowing it. Innocence lost, his face slowly lost the numbing fear he had held on to, allowing him to grasp the world anew. The red in his eyes faded, replaced once more by that all-consuming green, though the color was darker, edgy, much more calculated and inherently wild. With the same blinding clarity, the light that had pulled him from the graveyard deposited him on the grass amidst a babbling populace. Their voices were an affront to his new disposition as he pushed himself up to his hands and knees, breathing softly.

Harry understood the moment he opened his eyes.

He was different.

Far from the boy that lay quivering on the moist ground under the cruciatus. That difference would take time to grasp and understand, but the fear that clawed at his heart seemed to be a faint memory, it was like looking through a fogged shower door. It remained, but it was faint, so faint that somewhere, the deep laughter that echoed in his new yet old mind, reiterated that the fear he felt would be overcome and swallowed. It would turn towards everyone that opposed him. He would use it as a catalyst for his power, this power borne of desperation, wielded against his oppressors.

'And the mudbloods and muggle filth.' He thought

Pausing in his thoughts, he took a stifled breath as he felt the ground move, people were running towards him. Some were trying to guard him. He could faintly hear someone yelling about a dead boy. 'my boy.' He repeated, but Harry only had thoughts of his last errant thought. Mudbloods? He didn't understand; there was a point in time that he abhorred that word, but right now he admitted that he had never felt such deep loathing for them before as well…he shook his head as he opened his eyes just in time to watch as the headmaster knelt before him.

"Harry, Harry my boy. Are you ok? What happened?" the aged warlock questioned, worry etched into the deep lines of his face. Harry stared into the man's eyes, a deep fury building; fury like he had never felt nor could he understand. It was born from nowhere he knew, but the resounding distaste, the unbridled abhorrence, it felt natural, part of him, like it was always meant. Everything in him wanted to tear at the man's face, throw him to the ground and truncheon him into the earth below; 'How plebian' he thought with a slight mental chuckle. 'Kill the man like a muggle, but the irony of such a distasteful death wouldn't be lost on the mudblood lover, now would it?' Harry's mind was alit with his voice, voices? He was talking to himself, that much he was aware, but regardless of what he heard, a cool calm crossed his face. It veiled the wonder that must have been glaringly obvious if the headmasters inquisitive eyes were anything to go. The voices vanishing, Harry looked down, taking a breath, then back to the headmaster. "I've been better." He said coolly before once more locking eyes with the headmaster.

"He's back."

"Who?"

"Voldemort."

The people around him paused in their movement, some shaken by his words, others disbelieving, but lucky for Harry, Moody had the common sense to stop the conversation before it was overheard any further. "Here's not the place Albus, I'll take the boy to my office. You tend to the others."

A moment of silence washed over them all. "Very well Alastor. I'll be to you shortly." Dumbledore finally replied.

Life seemed to fast forward as he felt his arm grasped, followed by the sensation of being dragged as he was pulled across the earth, through the grass of the castle, through the grey stones of the castle, up a few flights of stairs, pushed through corners and finally standing on the inside of a portrait, in a professors office in such disarray that it made his nose wrinkle…slightly.

"Disgusting." He muttered to himself, his innocuous green eyes moving about the room before they rested on a mirror that showed no reflection, only a shadow of figures he could not remember. It was interesting enough for him to bring a slightly muted eyebrow up in wonder before his eyes turned back to the apparently shell shocked professor moving autonomously as he listened to him muttering beneath his breath. The rumors about Moody had to be true, if he had any say, the man was a mess; a broken, sycophantic mess.

"Sit!" Moody ordered.

He stared at the man with mild disdain for a moment, everything in him screamed at the obvious command, the rudeness of this fool…though somehow he remembered his current position. Through the tornado that was his mind, he attempted to stimulate his memory, though at this moment, nothing came forward. He would have to rely on sheer instinct and intuition. The occurrence in the graveyard left him somewhat meager and he didn't like it at all.

Harry acquiesced and moved to the seat before sitting lightly. Moody had already turned to face Harry, his human and magical eye both focusing on the young wizard, it was bit unnerving, but the young wizard shook it off. His mind was fog at the moment, and although he couldn't think as clear as he would have desired, he was able to notice the acutely disconcerting movements of the professor. He looked as if he were fighting with his own body, grunting slightly, blowing air harshly through his nose as he took deep somewhat labored breaths and approached the boy with heavy footsteps, his eyes never leaving the child.

"What was it like?" He asked in a frenzied voice, almost delirious.

"Pardon?" Harry asked, brow rising in true ignorance.

"What was it like to see him rise again?" He questioned, this time with some muted authority.

Harry watched him, though he felt it was distantly. What was wrong with him. "I don't know what you mean…" Harry began, before he felt his arm grabbed and pulled forward, he slid somewhat in the seat, his malnutritioned frame easy to subjugate.

"Is this where he cut you? Is this where he took the blood." Moody asked as he stared down at the gash in Harry's arm. "I should have been there…I've always been the most loyal." 'Most loyal?' he thought to himself. It indeed was the same cut and source of blood the darklord had used, but Harry's mind had nothing to say. He wasn't cognizant enough to digest the rhetoric. There was a moment where he felt weak, a moment where he felt as he did before this night. But through the haze a distant anger, a rush of disgust and wild wrath reached forward…his free hand snapped forward and curled around Moody's hand as he grasped it with unnatural ability.

Moody's eyes snapped up to Harry's before he felt the pressure on his wrist constrict and the hand jerk quickly as an audible snap peppered by crunches echoed through the room. His eyes went wild for a moment before his mouth opened to scream. He released Harry's arm, only then realizing that he felt the pain but heard no scream. He stumbled back as Harry released him and stared at the boy, his free hand clenching at his throat, scratching madly before he heard a whisper of air escape his mouth.

"I'll kill you boy…" he breathed madly, but found himself unable to move. He looked up and at the child, his blue eyes finally falling on that definitively emerald gaze. He witnessed as they grew darker, a slight sheen echoing off of them before the green vanished, replaced by a deep crimson, a crimson that burned into his deepest fears, the echo of fire and brim stone. A crimson that found itself working his way through the man as he stumbled backwards and in to a chair of his own. He felt like his body had grown numb, his arms far too heavy to move as he slouched backward. It was a feeling he faintly aware that he had felt once before, but never from this boy.

It was achingly familiar.

The boy in question was standing now, he had crossed the distance between them and in that moment he had taken Moody's wand he had carelessly left sitting on the desk. 'Idiot' he thought to himself as he watched the boy breach the distance. He was…disconcerted by the malevolence in the boys guise.

"What are you doing…" He barely managed to force through his lips.

Harry watched as moody fought over control for his body. A small smile creeping across his face as a voice echoed in his mind. 'Never will we be weak again.' Although it felt unnatural to the otherwise loving and forgiving young wizard, he allowed himself to fall prey to the desire he had hidden. He looked at the wand that he held in his grasp. It wasn't his, his had broke in the graveyard, The malevolent red in his eyes gave way for a moment, revealing the innocence of the boy as he felt the distant bond of his first personal item taken away from him before it was replaced once more by a renewed anger as he looked back up at moody.

This man was a homage to everything he had aspired to destroy in himself, everything he had aspired to conquer, he was the amalgamation of everything that this new Harry would never succumb to. In him he saw the unreliability of his fathomless forgiveness. Power was what he sought, power at any cost, power that would allow him to stand on top, power that would feed him and allow him to master his reality. No, he would never be a fool for anyone; he would never allow himself to bow again.

"I'm showing that I will never be weak again." He finally replied.

Moody had no idea what the boy spoke of but the immense amount of pressure he felt on his otherwise numb body spoke clearly. The boy was angry, the boy was powerful, and if the red in his eyes was anything to judge the moment by, the boy was ready to kill. As he opened his mouth, he found that he couldn't speak at all anymore. Call it passive magic or accidental, but Harry's power had grown in folds.

It was like a sudden miasma of anger that washed over the room and expanded.

The weight of his power, his malevolence, washed over the castle and onto the grounds. The witches and wizards that remained felt the magnitude of the pressure as their own magic revolted against it, but felt themselves suddenly oppressed by an indomitable will. Dumbledore eyes turned to the castle, growing wide. Sirius ,in his animal form, leapt forward, fighting the magical assault. The two wizards met halfway up the grounds as Sirius reverted to his human form. He didn't need to say anything as he turned to see Remus, Minerva, and surprisingly Severus following them.

Harry though remained standing in front of moody. He knew that this was a ruse; the reality of his words had been weighing on him. "You aren't the real Professor Moody." He muttered, looking around the room. For some reason he had some knowledge on the aged auror. This farce had done a great job at maintaining their cover, but no cover was absolutely perfect, unless you had the will to make it so, at any cost, and he certainly didn't.

"Since you aren't the real moody, I have no sorrow for this…"

As the room went quiet and the false professor eyes grew wide, a sudden and terrible pitch echoed into the magical night. The room was graced by an infernal green, a spectacle of fear as the false professor's body went limp permanently, his natural eye losing its life giving sheen as the magical one fell to the ground.

Harry turned slowly to face the door he had been pushed through as it burst open, the Headmaster, the Deputy Headmistress, his godfather Sirius, and Remus came bursting in, shortly followed by Severus.

The groups stood quietly as Harry turned slowly to face them. In the movement he had reconciled his fear and swallowed it. Something this new reality of his had given him the ability to do as he faced the group, betraying the succinct elation of superiority he claimed as he killed the fake Moody. His eyes caught the group as they finally fell to Sirius and then to Dumbledore, the two he knew would be the most concerned with his well-being, though one of them for more nefarious reason. The pair looked at him before shifting to the dead figure just in time for them to watch as the body shifted from the form of Moody to another individual.

"Polyjuice." Severus muttered as he passed Harry as if he didn't exist.

The boys eyes narrowed slightly before he conceded to his curiosity and turned to watch.

"Who…" Harry began before being cut off.

"Barty Crouch…..Junior." Severus continued as they stared at the man. Their reality was brought to the forefront as their games had finally given them an answer. Proffering a boy in their palm as bait, watching him dance on their strings as they maneuvered to find out who their foe was. It was enough to make anyone go mad though this new Harry watched them all silently, arguing, talking, coming to conclusions. Things seemed to almost happen instantly as Aurors came in to get the body. They tried to question him, but none could get past Sirius, who for all his inequities protected him admirably, despite being a wanted criminal. Thoughts would be shared on this, especially since the leader of their asserted military force had been to visit him. But Harry's green eyes perpetually shifted to red as he continued to try to control the brimming rage that threatened to boil over.

Finally as silence claimed them, he vaguely heard a voice asking him something.

"….tired Harry?" He looked up to Sirius and Dumbledore. He watched the pair momentarily before shrugging. Sirius smiled slightly. "Come on pup, I walk you up to your dormitory." He said softly, wrapping Harry in a blanket before allowing his arm to rest on the young fourteen year olds shoulders as he navigated his godson through the halls of Hogwarts. Harry for his part remained silent. He felt a brimming dislike, a deep hatred with each step. He allowed the man to navigate him, but regardless of his tries to diminish the dislike, it wouldn't disappear. For him he was beginning to realize….this was not home.

Finally they reached the Gryffindor portrait. Sirius said the password to a jovial smile off the face of the fat lady. "Go in pup." Sirius said softly, pushing Harry forward. The boy turned and eyed Sirius and smiled, slightly. He had to maintain such a farce of need if he were to move forward. His head was formulating new moral values as he watched Sirius.

"Thanks" he said softly before climbing through the portrait hole as it closed behind him.

He passed the common room, only stopped by a soft voice. "Harry?" H turned to look at the individual, her honey brown eyes watching him carefully. "Hermione?" He replied. He watched as Ronald moved slowly before realizing what was going on. He had fallen asleep, but that sleep disappeared as he stared at Harry. "Harry!?" He questioned. "We were so worried bruv…" He muttered staring at the boy he considered his best mate. Harrys now green eyes watched the pair. "I bet…" He mumbled, no longer feeling shame in his dislike or hatred.

He simply turned and went to the common room, disappearing in the blackness, only sating his desire as he reached down and drew Moody's wand which turned out to be Barty's. It had tasted dark magic and would be easier to use. He sealed the drapes of his four poster, and drew another artifact that he had noticed in Alastor's holdings. The definitive draw of the arcane and the blatantly dark had drawn his new senses to it. He was surprised that Dumbledore had given such access. A small smile crossed the young wizards face as he lifted the punctured book before him….there was a faint reverberation of lingering magic over it….

"Tom Riddles Diary…" He muttered with a smirk. No one would hear him in the darkness of the Gryffindor tower as he used what he believed to be inherent magic, but was overtly learned by another soul, a fragment that vanished in the ethers of time as he made that existence a part of him.

Harry Potter as they knew him….existed no more….weakness was no longer his…

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 **A/N: Well as always read and review my dear friends. If you have any ideas, let me know. Mistakes, let me know, and I will edit as appropriate. I dont have a Beta, so I am winging it.**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I own nothing. As always Read and Review

 **Chapter 1.** Cause and Effect

Two weeks had passed since the end of the Triwizard tournament; though his eyes stayed away, effectively emulating an aloof deference as he did not desire the attention of the populace. In that time, those duplicitous emerald opals watched, calculating, threading through his surroundings. There was no use in undermining, as of yet, but he was very aware that his housemates had watched him circumspectly. And why shouldn't they? He had changed, very much so and although only two weeks in to his new life, he was exceptionally aware that he had _improved_ , though he tried to keep his alteration as silent and unknown as possible, subtle little difference had made themselves present. He knew the attempted farce was slowly being noticed…none the less, he smiled inwardly. He was lucky his former self had become such a recluse, because his lack of smiles, his maintained apathy, seemed to uphold the distance he desired.

For a moment he reminisced about the investigation that followed the deadly end of the Triwizard Tournament, if it could be called that. The wizarding world was, as usual too stupid to realize the truth and the Minister only wanted to mop up the hurricane of piss that would ensue should the neurotics in power feel any form of fear. They didn't even question Harry's use of an unforgiveable. They claimed it was self-defense and proceeded to proclaim that the Cedric boy had died unfortunately in the maze. Fudge even continued to applaud Harry and his riddance of the death eater whilst Dumbledore bade the minister to see reason and tell the society that the Dark Lord had returned. Harry though remained silent, even as the headmaster prodded him; he stayed vigilant in his own hush, further gaining support from Fudge. Even if it was a definite divergence from what Harry said on the grounds that evening. He stated that his maintained silence was because he had seen how easily the wizarding world could become ones enemy and the night's trauma was far too much for him to consider, he simply wanted to forget. Dumbledore could only nod in agreement, falling prey to the faux fear and tired in the voice of the youth.

None the less he twirled his temporary wand, eyeing it pitiably. Although he hated it and how it worked it was the only wand he found in the room of requirement that even remotely contained potential. 'Ahh, that room, how marvelous it was'. His young mind wished he had known about it long ago; c'est-la-vie, the new connections, both physical and magical were forcing him to remember certain things, although they were certainly alien, he accepted them with open arms. The unfortunate side effect was that his young mind was gradually claiming the old ones knowledge, maturing unnaturally, just as his magic was doing the same to the old ones power. That was also a virtuous problem as feats of magic that escaped him before came almost too naturally, and considerably more potent. He wondered how much more powerful he would be as he matured. This had the dual effect of his teacher's praise, in light of the recent tragedy he had witnessed, and his peers questioning, even ire. He wasn't surprised to learn that not all of his teachers and peers were pleased, though they did smirk as he visibly drew away from those that called him friend….

Harry had finished his reading before Aururo's came marching in to his dormitory. "Mr. Potter…" One questioned, slightly, watching the nefarious youth as his green eyes fell on him.

'Not even a knock.' He thought before replying "Yes?"

The Auror extended his hands, unwrapping a cloth that held the broken remnants of his wand. Harry felt that titular pull…He stared at it, his eyes echoing his longing but he nodded, nothing more than a simple, emotionless nod. He knew how he should have reacted, if only to appease the masses, but he was beyond idly pandering to these sycophantic and sheep-like fools. Though he was curious as to how they found it if Fudge had decided to abstain from the reality of Voldemort's return?

It really didn't matter...

Regardless, the wand had served its purpose, but now, it was time to move on. He knew that such a show motioned his desired necessity. Harry was beyond hatred, he was idle on malevolence, and it felt great. He looked back up at the auror, who seemed surprised by the boys muted reaction, before nodding once more and continuing out of the dormitory, through the common room and out of the portrait hole.

Though silence permeated their existence, Hermione watched as her friend vanished through the portrait hole, her eyes closing gently as she breathed lightly. She didn't know how to deal with it, she was sure that her brilliance was a universal concept, a beauty in disguise, but since Harry had returned from his expeditious departure, the green eyed wonder was different. He barely afforded them time, and if she wasn't a fool, he was studying. Harry now would almost always be found with a book in-between classes, whether he was reading during a break or highlighting during a trip to the loo. An engaged Harry was a very different Harry.

As she martialed down the stairs, followed by the majority of her class, and eventually sitting at their assigned table, she chanced a glanced at the enigma that was her friend. Honey brown met green eyes as she smiled slightly at Harry. His face gave no grievance towards familiarity, only a slight nod as he turned to face the headmaster. She assumed thing were different and that the personnel were pulled together to say an early good bye. She watched as the Headmaster rose from his golden seat, his arms stretched outwards…

Though before he spoke he was cut off…Her eyes turned towards the source of the voice. So wide because of its familiarity,

Harry was standing in their aisle. His frazzled hair somewhat subdued, but she couldn't be surprised, she had done the same. His back was ramrod straight, very different from the relaxed posture he normally maintained. His face was absolutely imperceptible, his cheeks slightly flushed from the sheer movement, but none the less nothing was discernible on the rather pale face of the youth. 'Much paler' she thought as her attention was drawn to his eyes. It was almost as if they flickered towards her out of the hundreds of students, focusing for the briefest of seconds and flashing something like a faint red.

She shook her head. That was impossible. She looked back at him, his eyes facing the headmaster, almost as if it had never happened, still that same green. She'd imagined it, she reassured herself.

"Headmaster?" He questioned.

Hermione watched as the play continued….

Dumbledore looked at Harry slightly surprised. "Yes Mr. Potter?" he questioned at the hisses and blatant revolt of the Slytherin's. Ron for his part sat silently, mouth slightly agape as he looked to Hermione for an answer, the witch in question shaking her head and shrugging. All he could do was turn and watch his apparent best mate make some kind of show. The other two houses did the same.

Harry though remained impassive. 'Yes', he thought, 'now it's time to begin the undermining.' "I've been reading up about the school and noticed that certain precedencies have been set. I believe that the same or similar precedence has been set since my name appeared from the goblet of fire." The young man paused watching his professors.

He took a breath, holding a smile. "That being said, after some rather heavy reading from some books that were cleverly pushed to the back, I found some interesting things. By the orders and old rules of seniority, and the magical laws of attrition, I, as the only and last direct heir to an Ancient and Noble house have the ability to petition and challenge my sorting. Had I known this, I probably would have done so a while ago. Rather convenient I never knew…Such being said, I request that we as a castle and student populace remain for a resorting of someone that stands in the position to help shape their tomorrow…." He paused…."Fortuitous as it all may be, I would like my future to no longer be intertwined with a fickle group of minions in red. I want my path and future away from the grasp of individuals that have no pride or house honor or mind of their own." He paused as his voice grew a bit more somber, his thoughts swaying between two family's minds, the shared pain and suffering. That would _never_ happen again, his path would be singular. "I was told in the beginning that your house will be your family and you must stand by them, they are your crutch through difficult times and as such shared in your success. " He looked dead at Minerva before allowing his cold and empty stare to fall on the headmaster. Naturally his mind blocked itself; a learned and surprisingly useful reaction from the merger which he had learned was called Occlumency.

The headmaster was surprised by the boy's enhanced eloquence and sheer contempt, even more so by his passionate delivery. Furthermore he was amazed that the boy had somehow occluded his thoughts, even if they were surface, his emotions had always been on his sleeve. His stomach twisted as he took in a deep shuttering breath. "Come now Harry…" Dumbledore muttered. "Such precedence's have been set but there would have to be certain qualifications outside of attrition of a household title, Harry…" He silenced as Harry put up a hand shaking his head slightly.

"But those precedence's have been set." He paused. "By the very blatant abuse of a housemate for almost a solid year and the obvious lack of care from that same houses head of house." Minerva's eyes grew wide. She knew somethings had happened, but assumed they were just childhood issues that sorted themselves out. She assumed the worst of it was from the Slytherin's, but for him, one of her favorite students to insinuate that she was blatantly ignoring the issue prickled at her pride. She took her house seriously, and the words truly stung. She admitted that she had been disappointed in the beginning, but learned otherwise as time went on. She began to stand to defend herself, but was stopped by Harry's voice. "Before you begin Professor McGonagall, I know for a fact you were aware that something was happening, but did not investigate. If you're going to argue it then tell me where were you when my things were tossed out of the house and into halls and doused with water and something foul smelling and not even the fat lady would let me in? Where were you when I was being verbally assaulted by my own house on a daily basis, even in your own class? Where were you when I was being attacked, physically, not just by other houses but by even my own? Having to always dodge jinxes and hexes?" His eyes narrowed. "Where were you when I was totally ostracized left exposed, thrown away as if I was some leper?"

"Harry, I never…" She paused not knowing what to say. Could all of this be really true, she looked at her house, the confirmation was visible by their reddening faces, their guilty glances to each other. It was made true by the fact that none would look her in the eye. "Harry…" She whispered, almost pleading.

His words were left to vapidly wave in shadows around her heavy eyes as he smiled slightly. His lips pursed as he watched the headmasters arms drops. The silence in the room reverberated amongst the toiling clouds of the ceilings. Magic couldn't hide the surprise as Dumbledore sat silent. As headmaster he was forced to understand the old laws, but surprise was his as he never once expected Harry to delve deep enough in to the esoteric, which went hand in hand with the old, to understand the power of magical rules.

His mistakes were coming to fruition.

Hermione for her part was left in utter shock as she looked between the trio and then to her house and back. She had no idea the depth of his loneliness, what had actually happened. What surprised her most was that the young hero had reached his breaking point. He was so far gone that he desired to leave the house that he had once been so proud to be in because it meant he had a connection to his parents.

"Mate…" Ron whispered as he listened. Hindsight was a bitch as he realized the true impact of all they had done. Harry Potter was a Gryff, he was thee Gryff, but his own house had pushed the insanely and sometimes foolishly braze young hero away. Stupid he thought, jaws clamping shut as he began to feel a certain and familiar emotion. That surprise was leading down a path that was so familiar to him….His eyes narrowed, unappreciatively.

Dumbledore looked at the boy sadly, no voice reaching his throat as he stared at him before looking to his head mistress. Her own green eyes seemed to shake before acquiescing to his strength. He nodded to her before she vanished behind him. All the while the students getting louder as they argued amongst each other. Only a small fraction of the Slytherin and Ravenclaw's remained quiet, watching and waiting. Draco maintained a cool calm, his face emotionless as he watched with interest at whatever Potter had planned. His own group remained reserved; each curiously surprised at the Gryffindor's marked change. It wasn't as if they admired him, they simply admired how he maneuvered through what holes the headmaster could present, most of all they were surprised that the brutish lion had picked up a book.

Harry hadn't been viewed as truly learned after all, at most curiously lucky.

After what seemed like an eternity professor McGonagall came blowing through the great halls doors. In her hand was the sorting hat, lifeless as normal. As she approached the headmaster table a bench appeared from nothing, allowing her to rest the hat on it. She turned and looked at the student populace, her lips, thinner and whiter than normal. Her face was ashen, from the veiled dressing down or the reality that her prized pupil silently hated her house. Sadness was evident as she looked upon the boy, so small…yet despite that his eyes echoed a strength she had never seen in him and something else.

Something familiar, yet so distant.

Feral.

"Potter, Harry" She intoned, ignoring the headmaster's explanation as she was certain of the end result.

The sorting hat came to life, slightly, before it allowed itself to rest on the head of the youth.

"Much too early it feels, much too early to be sorting fresh ones, little firsties." The hat paused "Indeed. You seem much too tried and too old to be doing this." Again it paused. "I understand now, you invoked the old laws, but you seem too tried to sort simply." It finished.

"You once said I could do well in any house." The boy intoned.

"Ha!" he replied. "How could I forget? Harry Potter. You are right, but you fought me and insisted that you be placed in Gryffindor…this hasn't happened often, maybe three times. Are you truly asking me to?"

Harry only nodded as the Hat understood his thoughts. "It surprises me that someone such as yourself would call in to play such arcane rules. I wonder what has…" The hat paused as it attempted to rifle through his thoughts but met a wall….the wall was accompanied by heat, a slightly overwhelming heat. The hat began to withdraw, but found its conscious gripped, his mind floundering in the growing heat before a sudden realization struck the hat. He had felt a mind like this before, but he shook it off as with the familiarity the power that held him released him.

"You know what I want."

"I do."

"Give it to me…"

"You have changed dear boy and I am not certain as to how. For the better or worse depends on who you speak to. Be it as it may I am bound by certain laws to never allay the information I am privy to in a child's mind, but I suppose you knew that before pursuing this course." Then it stopped speaking entirely. It was eerie…the normally enthusiastic hat remained silent for a bit more before barely intoning his decision.

"Slytherin."

* * *

To say they were shocked would have been an understatement. Harry Potter had always been a force of reliable amusement. But this was a bit farfetched. Since he stood he had made things different. The normally pale boy got off of the chair and dropped the hat in his place as the red lining of his robes and subsequent cloak and tie drained itself of the red, only to be replaced by green as his house crest seemed to trickle away as the Slytherin crest replaced it. His face remained as stoic and implacable as ever, as if he had grown up with the constant training and deliberate use of apathy. His eyes turned to the table he would be joining soon enough. A strange, yet familiar sense of warmth washed over him as he realized that it was past memories that claimed that inner joy; but it was the future he looked towards to. The merger had left him with only this option.

Before he continued forward he tuned to look at what was now his ex-house table as his eyes landed on the two that he once claimed as his closest friends. Hermione looked pitiable, frazzled, scared even. He knew part of it was because she had not known what was going on. Ron's furious face interested him though. He knew the reason this single celled individual was so red. His eyes lost their slightly happy sheen as emptiness took them, barely holding on to a tinge malevolence as he began to make his way out of the strangely quiet room. He found himself thinking of his first of many ploys, yes, it would be home and so, so, so much more. He swept over their hostile faces, eyes landing on his vetted nemesis.

Surprise was clearly evident on his face as his grey eyes met the green ones. Draco had nothing to say as he watched the boy move through the tables before coming to the doors. He almost missed the slight self-satisfied smile on Potter's face as he muttered something…

"I'll never be weak again…" He said quietly as he pushed through the doors, allowing them to close behind him with a thump as the room roared to life…

* * *

Amidst the impossibility of the last 15 minutes, Albus didn't know what to say. The room was alit with shouting and surprise. The Triwizard Tournament had ended horribly, a student dead, a dark lord reborn. Harry had been different since he returned. He had believed it was because the boy had suffered deeply from the experience and subsequently felt some sort of survivor's guilt. Even as the delegations of the other two schools had left 3 days prior, Harry had remained quiet and removed. He had expected the tournament members to approach each other, and indeed two of them had, Fleur and Victor, but as they approached Harry, the young man vanished amidst the student populace. He stayed quieter than normal, hidden amongst books, something different, but he surmised that it was a good thing. Wasn't it?

Caught in his own thoughts Dumbledore didn't notice the steely black eyes of the Slytherin head of house watch the Potter heir leave the great hall amidst the cacophony and confusion the he had purposefully stirred up. Severus didn't know whether to laugh at the situation or quite simply lose his mind. He was stuck between confusion, anger, curiosity, and incredulity. Not unlike other teachers he had witnessed the boys change in class, even if he didn't have to do to his status as a Triwizard contestant. He was hard pressed to express any emotion outside of his normal contrite disdain. Though with his improved performance in his own class he couldn't find a reason to press him, he could only figure that either he was somehow cheating, or somehow, Harry bloody Potter was learning. A piece of him couldn't be surprised, he was after all Lily's son, but his previous work did not show the astute capabilities of his mother.

Severus was still trying to get his head around the enormity of the boy's actions. He surveyed the room, catching the forlorn appearance of the headmaster. Not even he could understand what was going through the man's head, but beyond anything, it had to be shame. He turned to look at Minerva whose face was ashen, bare of emotion. He was vaguely aware of the other professors attempting to wrangle the remainder of the student body. He turned to watch his Slytherins. They of course silently brooded. His black eyes scanned the table before landing on his godson.

Draco…

The boys jaw was tense, his eyes watching his friends. He was surprised that the group remained silent. What else could they do except save face? Severus took a stilling breath still trying to sort his emotions before he pushed his chair back and stood. As he did, the Slytherin class looked at their head of house. He nodded to them; a gesture that they understood was to remain silent, before he raised his wand to his throat and cast a nonverbal sonorous.

"Silence…" He said with a thundering authority that drew the room's attention to him.

He watched as they did as he said, the other professors watching him curiously. Dumbeldore turned to his spy as well. "Despite what has happened, life must carry on. Today is the last day of term and we must continue as necessary despite the brazen show we were just given." He paused "Be that as it may, believe that the headmaster has words he wishes to share with you all before we depart to each of our own lives for the summer." He turned to the headmaster. "Headmaster?" He finished.

Dumbeldore nodded, shaking off the tightening in his stomach as he turned to the populace and simply straightened in his back chair.

 ***The end," said Dumbledore, looking around at them all, "of another year."**

" **There is much that I would like to say to you all this morning," said Dumbledore, "but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here," he gestured toward the Hufflepuffs, "enjoying** our final hours in this term with us **. I would like you all, please, to stand, and** give a moment of silence **to Cedric Diggory."***

The headmaster continued in his fashion. Delving into honor, friendship, etc…He was vaguely aware of the headmasters speech as he watched the door with unease. Draco looked up at his head of house he was pointedly watching the populace, though his eyes never made it to the Slytherin table. He quietly looked around at his companions. All were deep in their own thoughts. Some flinched as the headmaster said the Dark Lord's name. He quietly cursed the professor. How dare he…none the less, he was acutely aware that he needed to speak to his head of house, and hopefully reach his father faster. None the less, Potter had made a momentous change, literally at the last moment, leaving everyone hanging, wondering about his motivations.

Draco's eyes scanned the other tables, finally falling first on the red headed blood traitor. He watched the boy's impassioned face. 'How pathetic' he thought, emotions were not meant to be shown so clearly. He was obviously angry and Draco would play on that if he had the chance. His eyes continued, falling on Longbottom, the pathetic excuse of a pureblood heir before continuing to the mudblood. She was pale, somewhat ashen, her eyes sad and downtrodden.

He enjoyed that look.

It was wonderful to see her cowed; she had always been a bit too flamboyant. Draco's eyes turned back to the Hufflepuff house, a small smile crossing his lips as he watched their own saddened faces. Death happened every day, Draco had been taught, especially to the weak and they were certainly the weak. His eyes finally came to the Ravenclaw table that was the closest to the Slytherin in demeanor. Though some were clearly affected by the mention of the Dark Lord, others seemed to be deep in thought; perhaps he could find some that would be good enough to join the cause. Finally, his eyes turned to the head table, scanning across the professors before landing on his own head of house whose own black eyes were aimed directly at him. They watched each other for a moment before Professor Snape nodded.

That was all he needed, he knew that they would be speaking soon.

* * *

Harry remained silent, silent enough to listen to the cacophony of noise he left in his wake. He remained quiet enough to hear Snape speak up, and finally to listen to the headmasters speech just long enough for him to shake his head and proceed forward. How deceivingly contrite; such a speech…it was calculated enough to stimulate the thoughts of the children, for that is what they were, but to not overtly instill his rather pungent will duly avoiding incurring the wrath of many parents, yet inspiring younger generations to follow his words. With a smirk he made his way to the base of the grand staircase. His journey to those dormitories was over and not just for the summer. His decision to undermine the institution at this moment was a calculated move. Part of it was to stir up a bit of trouble, if anything cause a bit of wonder as to his motivations. He wanted to leave people bewildered. Although he knew that upon his return some would admonish with their contempt, but he would be ready. With the impeding summer it would allow people to accept the situation as well as allow him to prepare for the change of scenery. The Slytherin's were duplicitous by nature and he was very aware of their hostility towards him, and once upon a time he had actually given them more than enough reason to maintain the enmity between his new house and his old one. Though now amongst the snakes, hostility towards him just wouldn't do, duplicity was his as well. He figured the summer would allow him to mitigate his machinations. It would allow him time to assess his own personal strengths and build up as well as work through what he could as old and young continued to merge into a singular being.

He turned from the staircase, common sense stated that with his information and the ending of the feast, the children would be given time to tidy themselves up before making their way to the Hogwarts express, that was where he expected things to get a bit interesting, or as interesting as things could be on a train. He did reminisce about the time the Dementors had paid them a visit; he may not have reacted very well, but it was still interesting none the less. He decided he would beat them there and claim a compartment of his own. It was a strange feeling to realize that at one point he would have waited and waited in hopes of his friends running out and walking with him to the magically drawn carriage. His steps stuttered for a moment, stopping at the great doors that led outside.

Curse sentimentality…

There was a pause in his thoughts as something alien yet achingly familiar stirred his emotions. It was something he had pondered before, something that had always haunted him. Loneliness…he looked up at the door, his emerald eyes tracing the lines in the magically reinforced wood. Despite his desire to maintain control, perhaps even stamp out his emotions he was invariably still human. It was a battle between will and humanity. Humanity, such an unvaryingly limiting concept; morality was tied into it and to succeed in this world, this dark and bleak world full of depravity, morality would find itself limited. He would have to push through, soldier on only using sheer will. He understood that that night in the graveyard he had changed, put his feet down on a different trail. Harry Potter had perished, or rather the Harry that existed until that day. Loneliness wouldn't have time to capture him as he pushed ahead into an unknown world on a path he was still trying to plot.

With solid resolve Harry pushed the door open and exited. The feel of the spring air tickled against his pale skin. He had conquered that moment, so with mild elation underneath that otherwise stoic face he made his way to the carriages, stopping short as he noticed something he had never seen before but somehow immediately knew what it was. As he got closer to the coach, he couldn't keep his eyes off of the leathery looking, winged creatures. 'Thestrals' he thought. How 'decidedly morbid' he continued as he approached the creature with a somewhat learned curiosity, only learned because his older mind had done its due diligence when it came to the classification and understanding of a plethora of magical creatures. He eyed it for a moment longer before climbing in to the trolley.

With a rocking shake the trolley lurched forward. Now that he had seen the Thestral's, he finally understood how they moved. He should have figured it wasn't some type of innate magic. The coach made its way to the express, Harrys eyes glancing out of the window every now and then before he caught hold of the sight he had been waiting for. His watched as castle came in to view, his first and only home. A feeling of sadness or something like it came over him as he realized, he was going to Have to spend another summer with those dreadful, pathetic and filthy muggles.

His eyes narrowed momentarily before he came to a sudden realization, he wouldn't be able to use his magic, he wouldn't be able to facilitate his change or use what knowledge was learned, practice and cultivate his power…No, that wouldn't do. His first machination had to be formulated, and quick.

He would not spend another summer at the Dursleys…

* * *

Hermione sat still in the common room. She had hoped to speak to him before they boarded, find out what was really going on; but upon entrance Ron had gone to their dormitory only to return with displeasing news. Harry's belongings had been removed. The bed was made and his area was clean, as clean as if he had never been there before. Ron plunged into a couch, sinking into the cushion as he stared at the empty hearth. Hermione was vaguely aware of the boy as she sighed once more, shaking her head and resolving that she would definitely see him on the train. She turned to Ron, the boy looked more angry than sad. But he supposed it was his natural reaction, when in doubt go to anger rather than reasoning and thinking logically. There were times she wondered if she had made a mistake in becoming a Gryffindor. It wasn't because she wasn't brave; she had definitely proved herself to be brave; no it was because at times she just couldn't understand the lack of critical thinking that went on in her house. But who was she to say anything about it? She had done the same, she hadn't seen Harry change, withdraw, move away, whatever you want to call it. She thought he was okay after the first task, but she supposed that by then the damage had been done.

She felt guilty, culpable of the same crime committed by the rest of her house, even if she hadn't done the exact same thing. She had believed herself a good friend…But yet again, logic dictated that the truth was in the eye of the beholder. She reflected for a moment on how easy it had been to gloss over his feelings, his attitude, and his demeanor when he was such a good pretender. That face maintained many masks. She thought her companionship was enough, even her muted insight into the boy-who-lived, but she supposed that bringing him toast because he didn't want breakfast in the morning clearly didn't suffice. He had to have been internally lonely; always loved and hated, it had to have taken a toll on him; already emotionally stunted, the back and forth had to have drawn him into a fog of apathy. She reasoned that was why, despite her reasoning being completely wrong, but she wasn't aware of the change that had taken place in the young man.

Sighing lightly she turned to the third member of the group. She couldn't find solace in his company. His anger was clouding his judgement. She laughed lightly at the thought and where she had heard it. Clearing her head she puffed a light breath. Before standing and flattening her skirt.

"Ready to go Ron?" She said.

Ron looked up at her with a slight scowl. "Yeah." He mumbled as he got up and led the way out the common room, Hermione following behind him as they made for the carriages.

The boy was going to be insufferable on the way home.

* * *

Snape was standing in the Headmaster office, his jaws clenched, his eyes narrowed as he watched the forsaken professor. He didn't know whether to feel pity for him or explode on some tirade over the decision that had been reached. He had believed himself capable of maintaining his anger, and luckily enough he was able to maintain his decorum as the students finished their morning meal before being dismissed to prepare for their journeys home. Despite his curiosity as to what the boy was thinking, he was silently fuming.

"How, WHY, would you let the boy do that?" he questioned once again.

The headmaster looked up at him, his blue eyes taking in the agitated professor before he leaned forward propping himself up on his elbows, his fingers crossing before him as he pursed his lips slightly before replying. "What was I to do Severus?" He questioned. "He brought up and initiated old rules that have never been used during my time as headmaster. The last time they were invoked was in the 1400's, and to go against such rules wouldn't have ended favorably." He paused to breathe. "I know you're not happy about this, but there is nothing we can do. I only fear for him amongst the Slytherin children. I'm all too aware that there are _some_ that harbor the same ill will for him as their parents; I suppose a byproduct of being raised amongst darker types, I'm sure. But I don't know if Harry has the aptitude to bandy wit, cunning, and razor tongues with the members of your house, it's not how he is." He stroked his beard slightly, sitting straight up.

"So your reasoning is that the rules forced you to comply?" He said incredulously. "And when have you ever simply abided by the rules, except when they suited you?" Snape began pacing. "It's not enough that he's the boy-who-lived and the winner of the Triwizard tournament, now he is the first student in half a millennia to have been a member of two houses, and not just any houses, but houses that have had a rivalry since they were conceived. And now I expect that you want me to keep an eye on him?" he looked pointedly at the headmaster.

"I do Severus; he is going to have a tough time."

Severus's nostrils flared "Everyone has tough times, yet they don't have anyone tasked to guide them through it or soften whatever blows life throws at them. Your coddling of the boy is what has left unprepared and weak. It's a surprise he made it through the tasks, but I suppose a bit of favoritism or selective oversight could have helped the boy succeed, like missing gillyweed?" He had stopped his pacing now.

The headmaster sighed. "Severus, there is nothing we can do about what happened, we can't rewrite the past. Even if I were to use a time turner to stop that one instance, it would most likely be reconstituted in a more explosive manner. We have no choice but proceed forward; wait, watch, and listen. Harry surprised us with this and normally I can expect Harry to surprise us with action, but never something so finite and documented." He finished.

Professor Snape however simply shook his head. "He won't last a week in Slytherin." He replied as he made his way to the door. "With or without me watching him…" And with that Snape exited the room, leaving Dumbledore in abject silence.

His cloak billowed around him as he descended the steps and came out from behind the gargoyle. He moved fast, cutting a path through the throng of student's eager to get to the coaches and most likely find a compartment of their own. The students though immediately knew to move out of the way of their surly professor as he wound his way through the halls towards to his office.

Finally reaching the potions classroom, he made his way down before turning to his office door. Once at the door he gave it the password before it registered him and allowed him in. As he crossed the threshold he was stopped by a voice. Pivoting slightly he peered back and saw who it was.

"Mr. Malfoy?" he questioned.

The boy in question stood at the door with a look of expectation. "Have you spoken to my father?" he questioned.

"Not yet, but I intend to." Snape replied.

"May I be there when you do?" Draco asked.

Severus did a nonverbal tempus before looking back at Severus. "If we make it quick." He answered. The conversation was quick and concise and was he honest, that's how he would have preferred it. "Come." he finished crossing into his office as Draco followed and shut the door. Severus immediately went for the hearth grabbing a bit of floo powder from his desk before throwing the powder into the dull fire. The moment the powder hit, the flames roared to life with green flames. Severus moved towards the fire and plunged his head in "Malfoy Manor" he said.

Draco was unsure of what was being said but a minute or two later Severus withdrew his head and stepped back before the flames roared to life once more, this time a figure striding in effortlessly, dusting itself off and then turned back to face the professor.

"Draco?" The man questioned, his brow rising slightly.

"Father." Draco replied.

"Shouldn't you be making your way to the train?"

"I was hoping to remain for your conversation father." Draco replied.

Lucius narrowed his eyes, glancing over the boy before speaking. "Go board the train, any information that I feel I should recount to you I will, at home. For now I will speak to the professor on my own.

Draco made to argue, but a slight twitch of his father's brow had him changing his mind. Dejectedly Draco stood from the chair he had commandeered and made his way out. The moment the door was closed Lucius turned back to Snape.

"What was so important that you drew me away as I left for a meeting at the ministry?" Lucius Asked.

"Potter…" Snape replied simply.

Lucius couldn't help the smirk that crossed his face. "What of him?" He questioned with a sneer to his voice.

"He invoked an old rule that I honestly didn't know existed. Suffice to say that it ended with him becoming a member of Slytherin house." Snape explained.

Lucius's eyebrows shot up in surprise. This was certainly not what he was expecting. 'An old rule' he thought to himself, his face conveying concentration before he looked back up to the professor. "One of the many orders and old rules of seniority, and magical laws of attrition. They are indeed old and date back to the founding of the ministry, though I can't remember the last time they were used, had to have been a few hundred years, possibly more." He paused. "But how did the boy learn of them? It's something that not even most pureboods know."

Severus shook his head. "He simply said he read. Other than that I don't know."

Lucius finger tapped the top of his cane lightly as they allowed to silence to encroach. "So why did you call me here Severus?"

"To alert you before you hear through the grapevine."

"Indeed, and I assume you wanted me to pass this information on to the Dark Lord?" He replied.

Severus simply nodded an affirmative.

"Why not relay the information to him yourself?" Lucius asked, his brow rising questioningly.

"I can't, I am expected to be here for post term meetings which will proceed shortly. I thought it pertinent to get the information to him as soon as possible. As I said before, I don't think it's something he would like to hear through the grapevine when he has two of his members so closely intertwined with the school." He answered.

Lucius nodded in agreement. "I suppose you are correct. But what does the Headmaster think of this development? I'm certain he can't be pleased with his golden boy joining the den of snakes."

Severus smirked in response before speaking. "The Headmaster was bound by the rules. Unfortunately once invoked they must be followed. I suspect that magic plays a role in his reluctant acceptance."

"Magic does play a part, I'm not certain how, but it does. " Lucius replied. "For now I would presume the best course of action would be to wait and see." He finished, unknowingly echoing the Headmaster.

Severus could only nod in agreement.

* * *

Harry watched and listened as the remainder of the students boarded the train. The noise was somewhat consuming. He found his distaste growing as the time went on; he had enjoyed the quiet for an hour, forgetting for the briefest of moments that he would be joined by his schoolmates as he flipped through a book he had _procured_ from the library. Yes, perhaps it was against the rules, but he found himself caring less and less, besides how could he turn down such a strangely arcane book hidden amongst the tomes of the forbidden section? **The Study of Sumerian Magical Theory: A Beginners Path** No author was mentioned, he noted as he idly ran his hand over the lengthy title.

The reading sustained him; every now and then he would mark a page that he thought was important enough to return to. New Harry's intellectual hunger had grown in leaps and bounds. He seemed to want to drink in every book around him. He now understood why the mudbood was so enamored by the prospect of scholarly growth, it was tantalizing, the prospect of power as he read; how could he have ever disparaged this activity? Though as he read it seemed to be like he was remembering, essentially polishing away the rust, refreshing what the old one once knew and what he was absorbing. That was of course a byproduct of the old and new becoming one, but like the majority of his rampant thoughts he accepted this one with open arms as well.

His revelry was broken by a knock on his door. He looked up casually as the compartment door opened to admit the intruders. His eyes narrowed as Hermione stepped in, followed by Ron.

"Hi." She said softly.

Harry just looked at her a brow rising in question.

"Umm, can we join you; there aren't any more available compartments." She asked, even more tentatively.

"I'd prefer to be left alone, but if there are no more compartments do as you must." His voice held no emotion, positive or negative.

"Thanks'." She replied with a slight smile. Hermione sat across from Harry, Ron joining her as he decidedly looked anywhere but the Boy-Who-Lived, though he could barely keep his eyes from glancing at the house crest on Harry's chest. With every look he began to get more and more agitated, his ears were a very obvious indicator as the blood rushed to them. The fool was feeding his own anger. The silence was insufferable, consuming and he felt a strange resentment and disgust towards Harry. Sure, he had been jealous of him before, and how couldn't he be? Yes, Harry's home life was a touch unbearable, but in the magical world he was a celebrity and exceptionally wealthy, although he had never seen the young man's vaults, he was only aware that the Potters had been exceedingly rich.

The words in his mind continued to swirl and gain more momentum. Mixing with his anger, it was a recipe for a bad time. Finally, unable to keep quiet any longer, he began. "Why?" Ron asked, his jaws clenched.

Harry looked up at his ex-best friend. "Pardon?"

Ron looked at him incredulously. "Why did you do that? Why did you leave Gryffindor?" His voice was rising as he spoke.

Harry maintained his position still eyeing Ronald with a cold and emotionless expression. He thought that he had been more than clear when he expressed his desire to the headmaster and it wasn't as if he had expressed his wish behind closed doors. His reasoning had been sound, his argument solid and his research was very precise. But rather than reflecting on his actions, he spoke. "I'm fairly certain I was clear enough in the great hall. If you didn't catch it, then I supposed that's too bad."

"Yeah…sounds like something a snake would say." He retorted.

Harry did nothing but stare at the boy for a few more moments before turning away and turning his attention back to his book. Hermione had remained silent opting to only intervene should Ron do something stupid.

"You're a traitor Ha—Potter. There's nothing for it. Just a bloody slimy, snake, traitor. "

"Ron!" Hermione snapped.

"What!" Ron snapped back.

"Enough Ron, just stop." She continued.

"And why should I? Everything I said was true, he is a traitor. Who in their right mind would WANT to go to Slytherin, especially after being in Gryffindor. They are nothing but a pit of evil, plotting snakes and the lot of them are clearly dark. He turned his back on us. He doesn't even deserve to sit in the same compartment with us, the bloody Slytherin." He turned to face Harry "To believe I once considered you my friend. I'm not friends with anyone from that house and I am not going to start now. I wonder what Sirius will say? How disappointed he will be when he finds out what you did." He paused for a moment catching his breath as he had stood now. "I bet your parents are rolling over in their graves, but I guess you'll never know will you?" Ron finished standing, staring intently at Harry, his eyes focused and livid as if he were trying to light the boy on fire with a thought.

"Ronald!" Hermione cut in before she was silenced as Harry raised his hand, her honey brown eyes turned to him.

"I don't need you to fight my battles." Harry began, his eyes flicking from Ron to Hermione and finally back to Ron. "I find it hard to believe that you are so capable of skewing reality to suit yourself, regardless of fact and logic. I find it even harder to believe that you would question my loyalty when you yourself have yet to go through a school year without turning on me at some point or finding some non-committal reason to be angry with me." Harry cocked his head to the side, his ears having barely registered what the red head had said, he had passively tuned him out. In all reality, nothing that he said would have bothered him had he paid him attention, which he assumed surprised the pair. His weaker self would have reacted, pure Gryffindorish lack of forethought, their emotions on their sleeves but now, it all seemed a touch pointless, especially dealing with this fickle sycophant.

He could see the boy breathing slightly harder than normal before he continued. "That being said, Weasley, I applaud you in your attempt to rile me up; but let's be honest, you rode my coat tails, grabbed on to my own success and my achievements to boost your own appeal. I completely understand why though, considering your familial situation." Harry paused to let that sink in. Hermione's eyes had grown wide as Harry began, but Harry wasn't done. "Being the youngest son surrounded by brothers that have proven themselves academically, whilst you yourself struggle from day to day in class and just about everything else. It must be a pity being both untalented and poor, maybe you were hoping that by standing next to me, some fame and money would come your way. It's a pity you can't teach talent because then you would have a chance to at least be mediocre."

A small sly smile had crossed Harry's face. He had never thought himself capable of cutting at someone's exposed wounds, but this was easy. He saw why Malfoy would do it, it was a precise art, essentially using information that you pick up by observation and storing it for future use. His old mind concluded that it was definitely a Slytherin tactic. Information was tantamount, so it was always well worth it to observe and note. The house of snakes valued information as did the majority of pureblooded society. He would definitely be subscribing to this frame of thought.

Hermione eyes had gotten wider and wider before she realized that she was standing, standing between Ron and Harry. Ron looked about to burst, his face was a livid red; his jaws were clenched so tightly that she swore she could hear him grinding his teeth. His fists were curled into such a tight fist that his knuckles were a muted white, stretched taught. Harry though, she realized, looked as if there was nothing wrong around him, a small almost taunting smile across his as of late expressionless face. His eyes though, those eyes pierced through her with a force and venom she had never felt before, it made her spine tingle. She never would have believed Harry capable of such a personal attack, but here before her, she had witnessed it, such a cold and callous use of private information. She didn't know what to do as she stood between her friends, stopping the impending duel she was sure that Ronald would instigate. Perhaps she was doing this to protect Ron because for an instance, she had felt something stir in the air, a considerable warble through what she perceived to be her own magical field, an alien yet massive power that had lingered for less than a moment before it vanished, and if she didn't know better it had come from Harry. Yes, she was protecting Ron because the boy-who-lived had always been powerful, but this was something more fearsome than the abilities he had displayed during the Triwizard Tournament.

"It's best you leave, and take him with you, Granger." Harry said turning away from her as he picked up the book he had been reading, his eyes flickered to her, a momentary gleam of red swallowing the green before vanishing once more. If Harry were to admit it, that had felt better than he would have guessed. He had felt his power begin to leak out but his old mind had put a stop to it before something irreversible occurred, but the oddest thing was that somewhere he desired to have a go at the red head. He'd had yet to test his strength.

The young lady couldn't pick up on his emotions at all, and to add to that, there it was again, the flash of red swallowing those beautifully green eyes, only to disappear a moment later. There was no mistaking it as she was no more than five feet away from him. It was disconcerting, malevolent and dark. She shook it off internally. Hermione though didn't know how to react to his use of her surname vs her first. It was so insincere, markedly placing a gap in their relationship. She felt her heart drop, a somber sadness filling her as she knew their trio was breaking, and this time she doubted there was any coming back. She was positive she and Ron would remain friends, but only for a while longer. Without Harry, their glue, that friendship would crumble as well. Had they all been in the same house still, perhaps she could help them work on their relationships, but she couldn't see a solution this time. She turned to look at Harry once more, taking in his features. He was handsome, and the paleness of his skins suited him very well, his messy hair simply adding to his natural good looks. She admitted that somewhere deep inside she fancied the boy-who-lived, but right now was not the time to commiserate her emotions.

"You're right." She replied as she turned to push Ron out in to the train's hallway. Before she shut the door, she looked at Harry once more, the boy in question had already turned back to reading his book as if none of that had bothered him in the slightest, and she supposed that after this year, he most likely did feel just that.

That had been unexpected, he thought, but it didn't change anything. Pulling the temporary wand from his pocket he cast a quick tempus, noting the time he figured he had enough time to formulate some kind of general outline as to how he was going to deal with his housing situation. After this year, he realized that the Dursley's house was ill suited for him. His temperament would no longer tolerate their actions, though he was curious to see how they would react to his changed persona. So many thought and plans swirled in his head as the train continued down its path. Perhaps he could make his way to Diagon Alley and collect some books on wards, figure out how to disable these supposed wards Dumbledore had erected and make staying with the Dursley's a moot point. He had no idea as to how the wards around Privet Dr. worked, perhaps they used a series of ward stones and runes, maybe a combination of ward stones and intent based magic, possibly even vague blood magic, the amount of configurations could seemingly go on endlessly.

Deconstructing the wards was not a suitable method and would take too long without the ability to use his magic. Had he thought about it before he could have used the imperius on a 7th year and had them handle any tasks he couldn't do thanks to the limitation on his magic. 'C'est la vie' he thought as he continued his thoughts before he was once more interrupted by his compartment door opening. He peered towards the intruder, a smirk crossing his otherwise apathetic face as he eyed the blond haired newcomer.

Draco stepped in to the compartment looking about as he was followed by Zabini who turned to stop Crabbe and Goyle who remained outside, standing on either side of the door. Zabini closed the door and took a seat next to Draco whom had already claimed a spot for himself. His grey eyes searched the other wizard across from him, grey meeting green, he spoke. "I would never have thought you capable of something like that Potter." He began.

"It seems the majority of people have underestimated me for a while now, Malfoy." Harry replied.

"This is Blaise Zabini." He said, tilting his head to his darker skinned companion as he introduced the pair.

"Zabini." Harry replied with a nod.

"Potter." Blaise said back.

"What is it you want Malfoy? You don't typically have amiable conversations with me, so naturally my curiosity is piqued." Harry questioned, now sitting straight up.

"Well, we weren't in the same house before Potter, and it was only natural that you and I are enemies, Gryffindor and Slytherin have very rarely been on good terms. I was maintaining the status quo. But now, things are different. We will be sharing a house and unlike your former house, we always show a united front to the rest of the world, leaving our own struggles, squabbles, and problems in the common room." He finished.

"Unanimity." Harry said.

"Exactly." Draco replied.

Harrys eyes turned to Blaise who he noticed had been watching him keenly. "Is there something you would like to add Zabini?" He asked.

Zabini licked his lips before opening his mouth to speak. "I don't make it a habit to note the health of my school mates, but the disposition of my fellow housemates, I try to keep up to date. Observation is my forte, I suppose. There is something different about you Potter, I can't really place it, but there is something."

Harry didn't reply, he didn't think he needed to, nor did he find it beneficial to defend himself. Prying eyes were not much appreciated, especially now. His own calculating eyes took in the boy; perhaps it _would_ be beneficial to gather some information on this youth. Drawing his eyes away from Zabini he looked back at Malfoy.

"I suppose I will have to get used to the new system of life." He said to Draco.

"It's how Slytherin has always worked." Draco replied. His own eyes glanced over Harry and Zabini had been correct, even if what he noticed was tertiary, Harry's demeanor and the way he carried himself had changed just enough to note. He vaguely thought that Harry was trying to hide the change, but if it was only in how he spoke and walked, then it wasn't worthy of concern, but if this change was deeper, it wouldn't do to not investigate. Luckily they shared a house now, and he could dig as deep as he liked, or so he thought.

Pushing away those thoughts Draco did and said something achingly familiar. "You're a Slytherin now and it wouldn't do to consort with _some_ wizarding families, only the ones of note and worth, Potter. You have already become friends with the wrong sort, but if what I saw of Weasley and the mudblood, you seem to be handling that situation on your own. I can help you associate with the right sort." He took his hand and extended it towards Harry. This time Harry looked at the hand, his young mind filtering through his memories as he drew upon a very specific one. He smirked internally, extending his own hand, taking it and shaking it. It was surreal to relive this moment again.

Draco though smiled slightly. "Potter the Slytherin. I don't think a Potters been in Slytherin for at least two hundred years." He said in passing as he pushed himself off of the seat. "Perhaps we should correspond over the summer, Blaise and I are an owl away and there are some events that you should attend, if only to save face for next school year." He made his way to the door and slid it open, turning slightly to nod to Harry who repeated the action. There was no use in saying bye or wishing each other a happy summer, it didn't seem natural between them.

As Draco exited and Blaise shut the door, he couldn't help but to feel some sort of elation, father would be happy to know he'd just done.

To say that this day was full of surprises would be an understatement. He allowed his mind some freedom as he idly thought of how things could proceed. He felt the train buckle lightly and begin to slowdown. He had no idea that that much time had passed and so quickly. He figured that he couldn't rush a plan on how to deal with his living arrangements, he would handle that quickly and concisely, all he had to focus on was making it through the other students greeting their parents. As they pulled in to the station, Harry took off his school robes and deposited them into his trunk. He withdrew a different set of robes, all black, that he had bought from Hogsmeade with his tournament winnings. He would not condone the muggle filth he had been wearing. The robes he was wearing now were simple enough to pass as a cleanly dressed young man with a modicum of self-respect.

Finally, the train came to a halt with blow of its horn. Harry made his way to the compartment door and exited, he had already cast the necessary charms on his trunk as it trailed behind him, hovering half a foot off the ground. Harry had purposefully picked a compartment near an exit. He pivoted quickly and slipped out before the throng of students began to filter out. He maneuvered his trunk to a trolley, depositing his trunk on it before swiveling around, only to be stopped by a hand that landed on his shoulder.

"Hello Harry…" The man said.

Harry's natural reaction was to flinch away and reflexively draw his wand, leveling it sharply at the figure behind him.

"Woah, it's just me." Said Remus.

Harry eyed the wizard. He looked more haggard than normal, but that had to be a side effect of lycanthropy. "Professor Lupin." He stated simply, no apology. Why would he apologize, the wizard should have known better than to approach a wizard from behind. Remus though smiled, a tired smile, but a smile none the less.

"You looked like you were in a rush. Sorry to have startled you, a few of us are here to escort you through the platform and to your family." Remus finished as they began to push the trolley towards the platform. It was only then Harry noticed that a few others he didn't recognize had begun to flank them. The girl with the pink hair was the most noticeable, but he paid it no mind as he moved through the students.

Remus looked at Harry, "Not going to say bye to Weasley's and Grangers?" He questioned.

"Already did." Was Harry's impassive response.

As they finally reached the platform he turned to Remus "I can take it from here, thanks." Before he plunged through the barrier and broke through the other side. He didn't need to stop as he already spotted the Dursley's. They made quite the site, two bovines next to a giraffe. He sneered internally as he approached them and looked around. His young old mind was absorbing and conforming to certain thoughts he had once found displeasing. The thought of being surrounded by these filthy muggle's day in and day out made the anger in the pit of his stomach grow. The anger he felt was becoming all the more tangible as he approached.

"Boy." Vernon said in greeting.

Harry grit his teeth before replying "Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, Dudley."

The other two didn't respond, they simply turned and made their way towards what he assumed was the car. Vernon did the same; Harry trailed shortly behind, trying his hardest to stymie this unnatural and sudden anger at the innate feeling of shame and disgust in himself and his forced submission. Quickly hey reached the car, Vernon did little more than pop the boot open as the rest of his family climbed into the car, leaving Harry to load his trunk. Finished, he too climbed into the car and clicked his seatbelt in just as Vernon made to drive. His eyes remained focused straight ahead. He hadn't noticed that he was being watched through the rear view mirror.

Vernon's eyes took in the appearance of his nephew; something about him was different, malign. Perhaps this summer he would leave the boy alone more. It wouldn't do to have those folks pop up. He looked back into the mirror before his eyes suddenly grew wide for a moment before he looked forward, perhaps it was just a trick of the light, or maybe the boy was playing some sort of game, he had no explanation. He could have sworn he had seen the boy's green eyes turn red. Even if it was only for a moment, the effect was real; Vernon did not look at him for the rest of their drive.

Harry had no idea what was going through his uncle's mind, or that his uncle had witnessed a unfortunate side effect of his ongoing merger. He had only one thought that branched out endlessly and that was escape.

He would not bare them for long…

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A/N: So the second chapter is complete. Please tell me what you thought. I am not Beta'd. None the less, this chapter may have seemed long winded and held a few different perspectives. It's a set up chapter, that's what I hate about the first few chapters of any story, build up is a bitch. Luckily from here on out, it's going to be primarily new Harry's point of view. I think I may speed through the summer, which is to be decided. I had intended for Draco to approach Harry about a truce of sorts over the summer by owl since Slytherin is well known for its houses solidarity outside of the dungeon walls. But I thought this was as good a time as any other. They aren't friends, not yet, hell they may never be friends, but for Draco, having the boy-who-lived's companionship could help in the future and for Harry, the Malfoys were a great source of information and good to have in your corner in a pinch. Regardless, I said that this was going to be dark, and unfortunately I couldn't do that here, but It will get darker from here on out as Harry and the horcrux complete their merger.

I give credit to J.K. Rowling for what I took of Dumbledore's speech after the tournament ended. Those parts are bolded and marked by star symbols.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I own nothing. As always Read and Review.

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 **Chapter 2.** Freedom by his own hand

Four days.

That was as long as he could last.

A measly, pathetic, unfortunate four days before he found himself clouded by fury and rage, his malevolence leaking out of him as his green eyes were now a burning red, pupils constricted until they seemed virtually nonexistent. The paleness of his skin added to the monstrous sight as his hair was pulled by the wind around them. His face remained as indifferent as ever, devoid of the slightest hint of emotion, well any emotion outside of unbridled fury. Harry was standing over the form of his engorged cousin. The boy was struggling to breath as Harrys power reacted intrinsically, gripping his throat with unseen hands, pinning him to the ground.

This wouldn't have been necessary, had the fat boy kept to himself and minded his business. This could have been avoided had the disgusting muggle had the forethought to question the different Harry that had walked through the front doors, his lack of reaction, and his emotionless face. The change in him was apparent to the other two, apparent enough that when his green eyes fell on Vernon, for some reason the bovine would immediately decide it was time to leave the room. Harry was clueless as to the cause, but it was a benefit even if unexpected. The chores had come very lightly, leaving him time to delve into his machinations. He continued to read, perusing books for any useful information regarding his current dilemma. Unable to use his magic, he found himself feverishly pouring through the books he had managed to pilfer from the school, of course after dispelling them and removing the tracking charms tied to them. He was searching for a means to use his magic freely.

The old mind had once theorized that the Ministry tracked the use of underage magic via the wand, that there was some kind of protean charm tied in to it that would alert them when magic was used by any underage wizard, and that was the lead he was pursuing. He was fairly confident though, that pureblooded wizards benefited from their status and weren't subject to the same rules, or if they were, their lineage gave the credence to be overlooked. As he read he had come to a frank though expected conclusion. He would have to find a way out sooner than later as he wasn't sure what the consequences would be should he use his magic freely. Subconsciously he had taken to carrying the fake Moody's wand he had pocketed during the mess that was the end of the Triwizard Tournament. It was quite easy actually, as he had simply kept it up his sleeve prior to the questioning. The temporary wand he had acquired was tucked in to his trunk.

Crouch Jr's wand had yet to be used, but as fortune would favor, he was going to have the opportunity to test his theory sooner than he expected. The past three days passed by rather unexcitingly, the only points of interest being his plan making and diligent note taking. He had realized that his minds were finding more cohesion as the two become one. It made his thoughts more precise, pristine, gave him clarity and renewed his reasoning and intellectual ability, his renewed logic also gave him his insight into that lingering cruelty, the utter disgust and contempt he felt towards his proposed family, though he did have moments when he felt like one person housing two. The surreal quality would have him delving in to thoughts that the young mind would never had posed, but everything, nearly everything orbited around the prospect and reality of power, It was so tantalizing at times that he would reason that killing the Dursley's was a suitable option to allow him freedom from the muggle hell, their deaths wouldn't be missed, he would be doing the world a favor. He even contemplated lowering himself to muggle means; the thought of blood had no effect on him, it simply meant that his quarry felt the pain he wished them to, though he wouldn't pursue that option, owing to the inevitable mess. In those fleeting moments, he would find himself falling prey to thoughts the young mind had never considered but accepted as part of himself. With each day that passed, he found his patience stretched, whittled down, worn thin.

He was a walking bomb of malevolence and pain. His searching had done him no good. He would catch himself staring through his window, every now and then looking to his owl, in the moments he wasn't immersing himself in his self-inflicted studies. The creature had taken to nipping at his fingers anytime he attempted to release it. He was fairly sure the owl could sense the change that had occurred. Perhaps it was the magical bond they once shared as master and familiar? The bond was most likely cut at the onset of the merger; meaning to him, regardless of his past feelings for the creature, Hedwig was nothing more than a simple owl. He would have to find a new familiar…The last time Hedwig nipped his finger, he found himself staring down at the creature, wand in hand pointed at the infernal animal. He had no patience for it…having disregarded sentimentality and attempting to besmirch his humanity, he resolved that although the owl had held some importance, it no longer served his needs as it would no longer serve him willingly.

The wand tip began to glow a faint green, deepening in hue as all his intent was based on those two words he found came to him so naturally. He was so tempted, his eyes narrowing as he felt his magic slipping again. It would be so easy to take his patience out on the bird. The wand tip grew brighter still, his face an emotionless mask, his heart beating faster, and his eyes slowly changing color. He couldn't deny that he felt an odd sense of excitement, the adrenaline slowly pumping. His empty hand closed into a tight fist, his knuckles turning white as the magic reached a crescendo. With a faint grunt, he dropped his arm; the bird wasn't worth dealing with the ministry. He breathed a touch harder than normal, staring at the oversized winged rodent. He twirled Barty's wand absentmindedly, 'really, I should just call it mine' he thought as he slid it back it into his pants pocket.

Knowing his patience was running thin, he turned around, and bent at his waist grabbed a pair of shoes and decided that regardless of how menial it was, he would venture outdoors. Despite his desire to further disassociate himself from the muggle world, he was forced to put on the tattered hand me downs before slipping on the oversized trainers, lacing them, and making his way down the stairs and out of the front door.

The summer's unusually high heat assaulted him immediately; his only reaction was a slight grimace as he looked up and down Little Whinging. He blinked a long exaggerated blink before stepping forward and idly exiting the front yard, closing the gate as he did. Walking, it was of course against his new character, but he found it expeditious to clearing his mind and enabling his thinking process. It was a habit formed by the young one, a bleak and menial habit that was only suited for the filth that needed to be scourged from his world. It was a disgusting routine that the old mind did not and would not accept, the feeling leaking into the young ones thoughts; though as of late, the thoughts were getting harder to distinguish which entity thought what, which meant that the merger was completing itself. The practice, he realized was below a person like himself. A practice he would eventually break, but being cordoned off in that room, in that house, his mind was left with very little ability to maintain his silent and meek, Harry Potter charade whilst planning an escape that he was having very little success in formulating.

His feet were on autopilot as he began walking, the streets were pretty much empty, though that wasn't surprising, considering the heat. A kilometer and a half or so away from the house he made his way past a park, stopping as he caught sight of his cousin, the magnanimous serial bully. Per norm, the lummox was at it again, poking and prodding a smaller muggle than he. Despite his new disposition, he knew the fat one was nothing more than a simpering coward that wouldn't even have a place in Hufflepuff; a pretentious pretender that hid behind his size and number of people in his group. He had no qualms with the actions themselves, he simply didn't agree with the boy's delivery. Subterfuge, cloak and dagger, secrecy, all those were honorable in their own right, even sheer force against a worthy opponent, but to use excess force on something so much weaker than himself…"Coward." He spat. Dudley was a perfect example of why this filth didn't deserve to exist side by side with their betters, wizards and witches. During his internal diatribe the sky had dimmed as unseasonably dark clouds rolled in, blocking the glaring gaze of the sun as the world around him instantly cooled, giving them a reprieve from the baking light. Harry could feel goosebumps rising on his arms as a strange chill took the day; he chanced a glance at the sky before noticing that the boys finished their torment of the young child. He shook his head in mild disgust, turning to walk back home. He wanted nothing to do with the coming summer storm, though that desire was cut short as he heard his name called. He turned to the speaker, watching Dudley and his cohorts cross the park and approach him. Luckily this area was slightly underdeveloped, leaving a field peppered by alcoves of high bushes and shrubs around the park and a few pathways that led to the streets around it.

"Oi, Potter!" Dudley yelled out as they reached him.

Dudley had yet to learn the consequences of crossing a true wizard, since having a tail removed wasn't enough.

"What are you doing here freak?" Dudley continued, his friends laughing as he spoke. Harry on the other hand eyed the group, his face devoid of any semblance of a reaction. He maintained the passive visage, his eyes portraying his clearly contrived disdain.

"What freak, you don't talk anymore eh? Cat got your tongue?" Dudley continued.

"You should answer your betters when you're spoken to." One of Dudley's friends said, 'Pierce' Harry thought 'No, Piers.' He corrected himself as he turned his deep emerald gaze to the boy.

"My betters?" Harry questioned.

"That's right, your betters Potter." Another of Dudley's friends chimed in, though this one didn't register in Harry's memory, though it didn't matter as he pushed that to the side.

'How simple is this diatribe?' Harry thought to himself. "Let me know when you find these betters, because I am fairly certain it's none of you." He replied, nonplussed by the idle offenses.

"Watch how you talk to us Potter, I can make your life miserable." Dudley replied.

"Is that so Dudley? What are you going to do? Call your fat daddy; tell him when he gets home, explain to him how truly pathetic you are, so pathetic you can only pick on children younger and smaller than you? Or are you going to go home and tell the horse faced giraffe necked mother of yours; or maybe wobble home and cry into her shoulder whilst she tries to console her ickle Dudders, the gelatinous womble." Harry replied, easily knowing how to push the fat boy's buttons. Since he had heard his name called, he was very aware of the coming altercation. He couldn't lie, he had been hoping for a way to release his pent up frustration, his encumbered anger; a chance to revel and escape this lackluster monotony, even if this foolish and brash altercation was a decidedly un-Slytherin action. The argument could be made that it was in fact very Slytherin, bating the boy for his own nefarious purposes.

Dudley's face had begun to grow red with patches of puce. His friends were actually surprised by Harry's reaction. The kid generally ran from a fight, and that would be when they gave chase. Regardless, they had fallen completely silent waiting for their leader's direction.

"I don't need to tell my mum or dad, I can handle you by myself Potter." He paused for a second "But…at least I have parents to tell Potter. Where are yours, eh? Where are they? He smiled ruthlessly and looked around at his friends who were all laughing at the pointed jabs.

"They're dead!" he continued with force. "Poor little Harry Potter, no mum, no dad because the drunks got themselves killed in an accident." His friends were all truly laughing now as if there wasn't anything wrong. Harry though noted that Dudley hadn't been told the truth or forgot it, that information was filed and stored away for future purposes. Only Piers noticed the change in Harry's immediate area. The winds had stilled, though only around them, a strange void of silence slowly took hold as the hub bub of life seemed to be filtered away, relegating them to auditory nothingness.

"Hey Dud, we should get going, it looks like it's going to start raining soon." Piers spoke, his voice audibly captured by a hint of fear.

Dudley turned to look at his friends "You guys can go; I can handle this scrawny git."

"Ok, then bruv we'll see you tomorrow." He said as he turned and began to walk away with his friends.

Once they were out of sight Dudley focused on Harry once again. "Are you sad Po-" He was stopped as Harry drew his wand, his eyes falling to it instantly. "What are you going to do with that?" His voice quivering ever so slightly, his pathetic attempt to maintain his bravado around Harry simply served to anger the boy even more. .

"Does it scare you Dursley?" Harry said, a feral smile creeping across his cheeks. He maintained the expression as he took a step closer to his cousin, Dudley reacting as he took a step back. "I'm certain it does. Fear and cowardice; that's how you thrive, at least until a bigger bully comes along." He paused for effect. "Well, I am that bully." And with that Harry drew his wand upward.

"What are you doing?" Dudley asked his voice a little shakier than normal. "Mum and dad will find out." He continued, a hint of desperation in his voice "I'll tell them myself..."

"No, they won't Dursley, and you won't be saying a thing." Again he paused to simply gauge the boys fear. "Because I won't let you." Silence crept between them, unnerving silence for what felt like hours before Harry extended his arm, his wand tip coalescing with power as red light slowly began to emanate and pulse lightly, rhythmically, pulsating with his heart beat as he felt a raw sensation, a strange tickle that crept up his spine in anticipation. He could feel the shadows he unwittingly longed for undulating and surrounding him in a malevolent embrace, the intoxicating drip of power drawing him in as his apparent superiority gave him more than enough cause, drive, and desire. The recurrent waves of magic that escaped him, beating against the ground, washing away the life of the grass and weeds below him, effectively scorching the ground dry; not even he was aware of the raw magical power he possessed as he unwittingly began to cause slight electrical discharges from the lights that surrounded the park. There was only one way he could entertain the desire that was welling up, one word, a simple word that caused fear and dread in the majority of witches and wizards because unlike many others, this one was powered by sheer hate and the express desire to hurt, the will to maim. Silence had crept over them before Harry gave Dudley the most duplicitous and roguish smile he could, before twisting his wrist, wand in hand aligning its tip for the center of the swollen land dwelling manatee's chest…

"Crucio!"

The wands tip exploded with red power, dancing in the air as the magic in his body, fueled by his seemingly growing hate propelled it with force, exploding in a myriad of tendrils as it struck Dudley in the chest. His screams were instantaneous as the boy buckled at the knees, writhing in agony before Harry withdrew the spell. Realizing his error, he flicked his wand once more, releasing a blue light that hit Dudley. "A silencio Dudley, I don't want to draw too much attention." Harry explained as Dudley twitched on the ground, crying and trying his hardest to wordlessly beg for Harry to stop. Harrys head cocked to the side, sardonic curiosity in his eyes. "Come now Big D, when I would ask you and your friends to stop did you?" Luckily enough Harry and Dudley were hidden by a nice thicket of bushes, so only someone that was truly investigating would find them, though Harry resolved that he would handle anyone that intruded. Harry eyed Dudley, perceived the disgusting mass of flesh as he heaved in pain.

No, it wasn't over, far from it.

He would break Dudley's will, make it bend to him. If he couldn't get the respect, he would revel, cherish the fear. "Crucio." He spoke once more, his voice escaping with as much vehemence he could muster. The magic arced over Dudley's spine as Harry maintained the power, pushing it further as the lights that danced over his body created a spectacle of a show as his mouth opened in agony, issuing a silent scream in desperation. He had flopped around enough to break the skin on his elbows and knees, bruises peppered his face and most likely his doughy body. This torture seemed to be a cathartic catalyst of fresh thought. Both the old and young felt an immense, deep flash of hatred. Growing up alone, beaten, mistreated, broken, and meant to cower. This renewed animosity created a massive pulse in the curse that he was using as the same disgust powered the magic that escaped his body. He was vaguely aware of the discharge of energy, and subconsciously tried to stop the flow, but he was already so deeply entrenched in the curse he almost didn't care.

Begrudgingly he broke the spell, leaving the sweaty pig writhing in sheer and complete agony. He was certain Dudley would feel the after effects for quite some time, if not for the rest of his life as muggles didn't have the inert magic that was used during moments of pain or sickness, the reason why magical beings tended to heal faster and almost always never fell ill. Harry stared at the fat boy, as he cried silently due to the effects of the spell. "Now, I'm going to remove the silencing spell. I expect you to be quiet. Do you understand me?" Harry finished, waiting for the blotchy skinned, bruised and bloodied slug to at the least nod his acceptance.

Though as he made no indication, Harry's ire rose once more. "Do you understand me?" He questioned again. "You fat, worthless muggle, you waste of space, you useless abomination tainting the air around you." Harry was unaware that his magic reacted to his anger the same way it did to Barty when he posed as moody, Harry's magic gripped at Dudley's throat, pinning him to the ground as he savored the agony Dudley must have been in, espoused further as he struggled to breathe. Harry had no idea what his cousin was thinking and he didn't care. He allowed his power to maintain, fueled by what seemed like an endless well of magic. He held on until he could hear Dudley's gasps turn into a gurgle as the boy waddled between the line of conscious and unconscious.

With a sigh, Harry willingly concentrated and withdrew his magic, letting the boy return to consciousness. He waited for a few minutes, staring off into nothingness as his mind was a flood with ideas on how to escape the insipid, vacuous, and wretched bastille that was number 4 privet drive. A bit of him couldn't believe what he had done, but the growing larger part accepted it with abundance, arms wide open. The surprise came by the feeling of relaxation, the ease at which he could think as his frustration was sated. He was even more surprised by the fact that nothing had been sent to him from the ministry. He looked down at the wand, a curious glint in his eyes as his theory had been confirmed. He admitted to himself that he was skeptical, but in the heat of the moment and his blatant disregard for rules, he was proven correct. His scientific theory was quite different from many, but worked none the less.

His impatience gave way as he turned to face Dudley noting that he had finally caught his breath yet remained on the ground, simpering slightly. "Now, Dudley, I expect that this will be our little secret. It's better that way, don't you think?" He asked, his voice dripping with acid hidden by a duplicitous haze of sugar. This time Dudley nodded his head, he didn't want to feel that again. "Good. You know, I could simply take away your memories of this, in fact I could make you my slave, but I don't want an unwilling servant. No. And taking your memories would take this moment from you." Unaware that his eyes still burned red, a wreath of flames that burned into the child's memories. "I want you to remember Dursley, remember this forever. I want you to remember how it felt, and above all always remember that you are nothing to wizards and witches; you're especially nothing to me. I want you to always remember who is superior, and who made you cry like the coward you truly are. Will you do that for me Dudley? Will you always remember that you and your family and the rest of the muggles and mudbloods alike are beneath me?" He finished, his rhetoric seeming strangely foreign, but deeply ingrained, a new yet old part of him.

Dudley for his part panted lightly and agreed. He wanted nothing to do with the pain he felt. He could barely open his eyes, but he could still feel the swift light that struck him, burning away at his body as he shivered once more. No he didn't.

"Good, then I'll be going." Harry finished, the faux smile disappearing as he turned away and began to walk back to the house. He felt a renewed sense of ease as the magic he had spent gave him a freedom he thought would be impossible for the next three months. He looked at the wand once more, another beneficial side effect of his seemingly explosive wrath. He would be able to use magic to escape; he could look into easier means and wouldn't have to rely on rudimentary knowledge. Once he figured it out, he could finally purchase himself a new wand and hopefully use his money to influence the removal of the trace on it. Everyone had a price.

For the first time since his announcement and resorting, he could work and revel in a sense of self-satisfaction that the younger one had never felt but was nothing new to the old one.

As he approached the house and stopped in the driveway, he envisioned it swallowed by fire, burning in the eternal and monstrous flames of Fiendfyre. Snakes and dragons roaring and hissing as they rolled and stomped, eating away the wood, melting the metal and glass, and scorching the stone and destroying the three individuals he had trapped within.

Yes, once he escaped, he would return with one purpose…revenge.

* * *

It was nearing the end of the fourth day, notes were scattered all over the desk he had transfigured from the old rubbish the Dursley's bequeathed him. His quill was scribbling quickly, and with each dip into the ink his plan was coming to fruition. Knowing he could use magic, he did so, freely without fear or consternation. It amused him to see how low Dudley had bent to him. Fear was apparent in every motion he made, he couldn't even manage to look Harry in the eye. His parents watched him carefully, smothering him with concern as they noticed Dudley's strange twitch. The constant shows of affection disgusted the young wizard. Some would claim that he was jealous; no he was far from that. His desire for familial association had been washed away, along with his desire for connections with feelings or companionship in earnest.

No, he didn't need that.

Harry's eyes moved to the little black book with a hole in it that sat on his desk. Leaning back and setting his quill down, he grasped Tom Riddles diary and flipped it open, tracing a finger around the edges of the hole, his fingers following the ink stains that had once dripped out like blood. Both young and old had felt that although it was destroyed, this relic was more than a souvenir. It was a memory, a testament to failure and survival, and it belonged to him, not Dumbledore, not Barty/Moody, but him, the conquering king. He set the Diary down and turned back to his notes.

The plan in and of itself was pretty simple if not time consuming. Earlier that day he had gone outside and slowly walked up the street, all the while mumbling as he paced out the distance, wand in hand, using it as a detection tool, a slow reverberation of magic echoing from the tip. What he was mumbling was a detection charm that he had read about in passing. Using old memories, he used a combination of arithmancy and what the old young mind remembered to be spell alteration to alter the incantation just enough to alert him to anything with magic, or at last residual magic. He was certain that there had to be a ward stone somewhere, and if there wasn't Harry was fairly certain that there were runes, and if there were runes, it was most likely blood magic, but whose blood was used was anyone's guess, only Dumbeldore would know, but he had the sneaky suspicion that it was his blood that was used.

He had realized that he didn't need to completely destroy the wards, considering that as the merger progressed, and the two became one even more, he was realizing that he could feel the magic around him. Although that was new, he didn't allow his mind to wander. He didn't have to completely implode them, he only had to modify them, modify them to give no alert if he left, and would continue reacting as if he was still there. It had become harder to implement his plan when he realized that he was being watched. He didn't really fancy the idea of a silent observer, though soon he learned that whoever it was, they were exceedingly inept. The man was easy to stun, Harry had half the nerve to kill him in his sleep, but he didn't, it would draw attention. He hid the fool under some bushes, his nose wrinkling slightly as the man smelled of liquor and smokes, a pungent combination. Having handled the unwanted voyeur he proceeded with his plan.

After what seemed like hours, his wand finally reacted and he was very glad. The wand, though more suited to him than the wand he had found in the room of requirement, was still not a match at all. It was like wearing socks too small, they may have slid on, but they weren't doing the job. This wand worked for what he needed, but he needed his own. He had already decided that that was going to be the first thing he did. He still had his winnings, so there was no reason for him to go to Gringotts, though he would eventually.

Following the pulsation in the wand, he walked, around a neighbor's house, down a back alley that trash trucks used to collect waste and finally to a tree stump. He cancelled the spell and stared at the stump, a smirk crossing his lips before he brought the wand forward. "Bombarda" he spoke, decimating it. As the dust cleared, Harry made his way to what remained of the stump. 'Dumbledore, the fool, what a pathetic hiding spot…' He looked down; looking around the stone. It had been etched with different runes that gave off a slightly yellow glow. He paced around the rock for what seemed like hours. It was a good thing he had begun at 6am, it left him ample time to tinker. He was thinking, and thinking hard as he drew on the knowledge of the old young mind. His first thought was to take it home, but he quickly discarded that thought. If this was its hiding spot, he was fairly certain Dumbeldore would have taken precautions. It was almost like he was daring someone to try. No, the ward stone would have to stay here. He had transfigured a piece of wood into a clipboard, and another piece of wood into something like paper before he accio'd his quill and ink bottle. Having been there for so long, the paper was completely covered in various symbols, runic letters, markings, and glyphs.

As frustration began to build, he had to admit that the way the symbols were written were defeating him, although as he admitted it, he had a sudden and moral boosting breakthrough. 'The old man and his tricks.' He thought as he looked closer. They had been stacked, the runes, and not just stacked, Dumbledore had managed to write the first layer upside down, the second layer were written reversed and right side up. Once he figured that out, it became much easier. The runes on it were a plethora of protection symbols. Harry deciphered a few but wondered which one was directly tied to him. The complexity of the warding was somewhat lost to him, but he was driven by a singular desire. By the time he was able to discern the one rune he needed, the sun was high in the sky. Luckily it wasn't another sweltering day.

Now after figuring out the one he thought was correct, he had to create a loop hole. That took him almost an hour, but once he figured it out, it was a simple task of mastering the correct adage, and including it without permanent repercussions. He took to the ground as he observed the rock. Taking out his wand, he leaned forward just enough to gingerly poke it with his wand.

That had been a mistake. An electrical discharge came from the rock, throwing him three or four meters away. Shaking his head he rolled over and stood, returning to the stone. He had acted foolishly and therefore deserved that. The old young mind agreed, as did the young old mind. If he had to a percentage of completion on the merger, he would say 70%, his thoughts seemed to echo from both now. He observed the stone once more, and this time for a short while longer before he realized what he had to do. He hurriedly out lined a pentagram around the stump before scribbling what would have looked like nonsense to a muggle, but a wizard would instantly recognize it. As he completed it, he took a step back pointing his wand at the marking before speak "Reddere iners." He smiled as he felt a static reverberation, before he stepped forward and picked up the stone. Setting it down, he immediately set to work. He had to be quick to avoid detection, and quick he was as he looked at his finished product. If all worked out well, he would be able to leave this evening. Placing the ward stone back, he repaired the stump with a reparo maxima and retraced his steps back home. As he approached he looked to see if the man was there, and indeed he was. Casting a nonverbal stun, he made his way in.

* * *

Now he was at his desk, counting the money he had on him. Even with the robes he bought in Hogsmeade, he still remained with 988 galleons. That was more than enough, now his only task was passing whoever was on guard detail this evening. Harry knew he had to do this under the cover of night, however cliché it was. He turned his head to look at the clock, "10:47PM" He said out loud. He continued to write, peering out of the window every few minutes. Since realizing he was being watched, Harry had begun to follow their routine. These idiots were not covert in the least. He smirked as he watched them now, his head down, pretending to be busy doing homework, all the while watching as the disillusioned figures attempted a silent change in guard. Though they were far from silent.

As they passed on information, Harry stood and crossed the room, turning off the lights before moving back to the desk. Now it was merely a waiting game. He had deduced that they changed guards three times a day, and circulated guards through a closed loop of maybe eight to ten individuals. Apparently none of them had the funds to invest in an invisibility cloak of any sort, they had to rely on the darkness of the night and disillusionment charms. He was able to get a vague read as to who it could be by their gait and their attention to their task. Judging by the translucent ripple of the disillusioned wizard, it was the drunkard. 'Mundun-', he paused 'A terrible name' he thought as he finished his writing. Unbeknownst to him, for the last few days, he had subconsciously begun to write in parseltongue; anyone would wonder how you could write in a different language without noticing, though with parseltongue it was simple, the language was as much a part of him, as his hands and feet. One could learn parseltongue, but they would never understand it as understanding came from within, it was truly in the blood and magic. It was a hereditary trait. Harry had already decided that when he had the time and the means he was going to investigate his lineage. Regardless though, you could blame it on his natural secrecy; he had no reason to trust anyone around him. Though this year secrecy appeared to be easy to maintain while at Number 4, easier than normal. His muggle family seemed to be trying to avoid him at all costs, while Dudley's fear ruled his actions. The boy moved with exceptional caution, his eyes darting here and there, always on the lookout. His fear was palpable and for the first time in his life, he knew what it was like to no longer be the apex predator. His body still suffered from Harry's gentle ministrations as he would be hit by sudden tremors, beyond that his eyes never met Harry's as the memory played through his thoughts endlessly. He would never forget that day and the minutes that felt like hours.

In the darkness Harry moved about the room, collecting his things and discarding what he felt was useless. He had already changed; exceptionally glad to rid himself of the ghastly muggle clothing he would never wear again. As he finished packing, he quickly looped his wand in the air finishing with a slight jab as he proceeded to shrink his trunk and the remainder of his belongings, all the while casting featherlight charms on the lot, before pocketing them all. He looked around once more, his eyes performing a quick sweep before landing on the bird cage and its inhabitant. Those dim green eyes moved over the bird calculatingly as he closed the distance between him and Hedwig. He cocked his head to the side, brows furrowed in thought, observing the creature though clearly unsure of how to proceed. He would be a fool if he didn't believe that this bird had once meant the world to him, the first sentient mammal to acknowledge him as more than a nuisance. The sentiment had meant the world at that time, and its affection, however diminished by its lack of human ability had helped the boy thrive through low times. But now, now it virtually meant nothing to him. With their master and familiar bond broken, she was nothing more than a pet, as useless as a muggle. It was now a burden, a burden he didn't think was worth it, he did not subscribe to maintaining waste, and that's what she was now. He could leave it here, but the Dursley's would most likely starve it. He could give it to the mudblood, but that would give the girl false hope, a reason to believe their relationship could be reestablished. He would not deal with that. He pondered the filth ridden Weasley's, but that thought vanished as soon as it came. That would require him tolerating their existence for the few moments it would require to pass the bird over.

No, none of that would do.

It was decided then. With a speed that Harry had never shown before, he drew the wand once more, the tip facing the animal. Coalescing with his magic he spoke, "Avada Kedavra." The deep green of the curse lit the walls for a brief moment as the whisper of death created a faint gust of wind that washed through the room yet disappeared as soon as it had come. Those large amber eyes saw nothing as the life giving sheen vanished into nothingness and ambiguity, not even a slight hoot, only silence. Hedwig fell off of her perch, its lifeless form causing a slight thump, accompanied by a rattle of the cage. It was no longer a concern. Sentimentality, humanity, morality…he didn't care for them. The trivial pieces of his past life were nothing more than a hook connected to a weight that drug him back down to the depths of a lake of self-pity. It had no place in his life, nor was any of that worth the time they could take. The bird was dead weight and was treated as such. He eyed it once more before turning around, opening the door slowly as he had already cast silencing charms on all of the hinges of the doors he would have to use.

He made his way down the stairs silently before making his way through the house and to the back door; drawing his own invisibility cloak around him as the boy vanished into the night. Quickly he moved toward the fence and opened it with little protest as he walked around the hedges, carefully passing the front gardens before he succumbed to pettiness and placed a foot down in the center of a nice quaff of roses, the childish thought and subsequent action were not as pleasing as he had believed they would be. He slowed his departure as his eyes looked around quickly; attempting to catch the all telling shimmer of disillusionment, but it was his nose that found the apparent guard. The stench of liquor and smokes and whatever filth the man bathed in was hard to hide. He stared at the location, noting that he could faintly catch the man's shimmering outline. 'Sleeping.' Harry thought as he quickly made his way past his would be protector and finally found the sidewalk before he broke into a run. He had already paced the distance of the wards using his self-formulated spell and his own innate ability to sense magic so he knew how far he had to go before escaping. As he neared it he could sense the changes he had made in the wards structure begin to take effect as they slowly yet loosely wrapped around him pulling gently before snapping back as he broke through the perimeter of the wards. He turned just in time to catch a faint, ghostly image of himself pivoting on its heel as it began walking back towards the house, only to vanish into the wind.

"Perfect." He said aloud, a nod of approval for himself before he turned around and looked to the sky. Though anticlimactic, the taste of freedom, a freedom that he had engineered had never tasted so sweet. He wasn't certain how long the farce would hold, but he only needed a short while to get his affairs in order. He turned once more to look at the accursed place he first learned the meaning of pain, hate, and loneliness, "Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England, Great Britain." It had seen many things, secrets, blood, tears, screams, the broken body of a 4 year old as his magic, already exceptionally strong began to heal him. The cries of a 7 year old who had been forced to have his haircut, his aunts hands not comforting at all as she nicked him here and there, leaving him with a bleeding head and ratty patches of hair, though his flesh healed itself and his hair grew back, defying the logic they knew. It had been witness to his beatings as his uncle threw a 9 year old down the stairs, the fragile thing breaking his wrist, a few ribs, three toes, and sustaining on orbital fracture. So much had happened in his young life, the old one knew the pain the young one had felt as they shared a common and strangely mirrored upbringing, it was partially why the merger was happening so quick, and beyond that remained so stable. Harry was barely able to tell their difference, though he didn't care, he thought of both as one and invariably, both were him, though the oppressed youth he had maintained had all but vanished as he had promised himself that he would dive into the endless black that was so tantalizing. Leaving his thoughts by the way side, he looked down the street once more….

Revenge was not enough, he would come back to Privet Dr. and he would kill them all.

Turning on the spot, he subconsciously meant to disapparate but stopped himself just as he was about to make the jump. To any passerby or curious onlooker it looked like Harry had twirled in place, in reality though he had stopped himself because he realized that although he had the memory and the knowledge to perform the feat, it would probably be best to practice elsewhere in fear of leaving a piece of himself where he had once been. Considering he didn't have the necessary sundries, splinching himself was not something he wanted to deal with whilst escaping the clutches of Dumbledore and his sycophants. Drawing his wand from his pocket, he jabbed it into the air, the tip lighting momentarily before dimming. He only had to wait a few moments before his senses were assaulted by a bang, smoke, and the site of the purple double decker. He barely remembered his status, drawing his hood over his head just as the doors opened, he was greeted by a uniquely ugly wizard, ears too big, freckled and ugly, thick, curly reddish brown hair, all tied together by a pair of overalls and a hat that dipped low enough to hide his eyes.

"Oi, 'Ello there mate. Nuffin wid ya eh? Efficient travela are ya?" He paused, a massive smile on his face, expecting the hooded stranger to reply, but was met by silence. "Me names Stan, Stan Shunpike." He continued as he moved to the side, allowing Harry to pass him, stopping for a moment to turn back to the pimple ridden ginger. "Diagon Alley." Harry muttered. "Righto, ya 'erd him." As Harry made his way to a spot, the bus lunged forward with blinding ability and speed. He took a seat far away enough and settled himself in for the ride.

No matter what he became, one thing would remain irrevocably unchanged, the lack of comfort that came with this ride.

* * *

His breath escaped his lips as white puffs of smoke, the cold barely noticeable as his skin, taught as ever had been reinforced my by magic's both arcane and dangerous; he reveled in the knowledge that only he had hunted these spells down, and they would be shared with no one. Rain trickled down his face, his cruel smile moving in and out of vision with each peel of lightning, thunder following suddenly as the clap of sound covered the more nefarious screams of death and begs of the weak and broken. His black robes rippled and danced in the wind, catching his sheer malevolence as his own deep, dark red eyes cut the obligatory darkness like two distant camp fires, roaring madly, threatening to spillover and consume everything in its path. Tendrils of his magic escaped him, assessing the level of power it would take to forfeit the wards that surrounded just the doors of the fortress. It was amazing, the intricacies of the island fortresses wards, the level of thought and precision put into each layer, they were beautiful a true testament to witches and wizards, magic was might indeed.

Voldemort was a tingle with internal dark mirth as he watched his Death Eaters pick through the limited Aurors that guarded Azkaban. He was remiss to admit that his plans had been pushed forward, but he had endured enough internal arguments to appease the lingering something in his belly. He was far from understanding the ominous pressure he had once felt, but as soon as it came, it had gone. He intended on hunting down each item he had used, once he freed his most valuable followers. He needed their power to maintain order as he went from place to place, only they could be trusted in earnest, they had suffered for him, and that suffering had earned them a right to stand above their peers, elevated in his esteem. As he thought idly, he walked forward, not minding the spell fire that surrounded him. A few errant arrays were batted away with ease as he stood himself before the doors of Azkaban, at least 7 meters away.

He drew his wand with a flourish as his hands free hand remained by his side before both arms began to elevate slowly, palms out as he began to chant in Arabic. As he did a soft reverberation ran through the ground as an austere heaviness began to settle on the area around him. His chanting continued, now gaining attention from a few nearby as the power he was drawing in converged around his one free hand, forming in his outward facing palm as the same power formed at the tip of his wand. By now those that remained had stopped to watch the Dark Lord, even the Aurors that had taken to hiding watched with fear and curiosity as Voldemort unexpectedly rose both of his arms, his hands crossing over above his head; his eyes snapped open suddenly as the weight of the magic vanished as the same power he summoned escaped his hands with a snarl, a wave of sheer black, an arcane spell he learned in Egypt during his three decades of journey. The magic collided with the wards with enough force to shake the ground simultaneously rocking the castle. Voldemort continued for a few minutes longer, his eyes squinted, his power flowing like chaos as he willed the ward to bend, past their point of no return before snapping with an explosion that blew the doors apart. Voldemort breathed deep, a sense of completion coursing through his veins as he stood straight up.

An unknown Auror stood to his feet, all wands drawn to him as he threw his wand to the ground. "An Arch-mage, the Dark Lord is an Arch-mage…" he began, fear and sadness in his voice. "We can't fight an arch-mage, we don't have a chance." He finished.

Voldemort watched the man wearily. "Indeed I am, boy." Voldemort spoke and nodded his voice deep, an unidentifiable edge to it as his red eyes burned into the Auror, no sense of sorrow, no visible indication of fear. Almost gloating in his strength, the sheer force he controlled, compelling people to give up before they even begun. . "A pity you did not think that before. I do hate to spill the blood of wizards and witches, but at times it is…" He paused to look around, gesturing to the corpses around him "… a necessity." He paused and looked around before coming back to the man "Kill them all." Voldemort ordered his death eaters. The courtyard was momentarily lit green as Voldemort made his way in to the prison with all the grace of a lord.

The Auror's within stood no chance. For a moment, they claimed the strength that the red of an Aurors robe gave them, remembering their teaching, calling upon their knowledge and pride. They had been taught to fear nothing in their pursuit of justice, do not shake or tremble before evil and tyranny. Their power must triumph to keep the magical world safe for the plethora of innocence. But right now, all of it blew away, crumbling as their lives were snuffed into nothingness. All of the teaching, all of the training, it meant nothing as the captain stood, slack jawed, rooted to the spot; one wizard, even if it was the Dark Lord, it was just one wizard…Even as the pain he felt vanished as his spine was severed his body still standing, even as his tongue was overcome by the distinct metallic taste of blood. His eyes were fixed on the carnage around him, the body's that dropped, the body parts that rolled around, the blood that splattered. Even as he slowly fell to the ground, unable to comprehend what was happening. Even as he hit the ground, his hands trembling as he tried to move his legs, to at least crouch. He wouldn't die on the floor. His head was full of thoughts, realities; fear…Even as he turned just to see a set of legs still standing though wobbly. Had this been a cartoon, he would have laughed; but it wasn't, it was real and those were his legs. His hands moved for his waste, his fingers feeling a warm liquid before they plunged into the blood, guts, and sinew that came from him; though as he felt the adrenaline give way to terror, his eyes growing wider before he opened his mouth to scream, he never saw the Dark Lord watching him, a small almost imperceptible upturn on one cheek. His wand moved with lightning fast precision, his magic escaping its tip, bathing the bisected Auror in green as life left him.

Turning to face the main hall, he waved the scene away, these pitiable wizards; they could have spent their lives on a worthy purpose, his purpose. They could have even surrendered, but even he knew he would have killed them in the end. No, although it was inevitable this was his only viable option, he would have preferred to wait just a bit longer. Though, no matter how much he had wanted to wait to free them, he had wanted to first reestablish his numbers, and douse the magical world in fear before he stormed Azkaban, he knew that with him unsure, questioning his _belongings_ and their safety he would have to leave for a short while, an impromptu trip. During his absence, he wanted his best by his side, his most loyal, his most powerful, his most savage to handle his will.

* * *

It was decided, he didn't know why he hadn't decided this before, but the night bus was a farce at least in the area of travel. It wasn't as if the other forms of travel were expeditiously comfortable, in fact they weren't but at least they were immediate, instantaneous. The discomfort was worth it if he could be anywhere in the blink of an eye. This, this was uncomfortable to say the least. It was well below him, it was meant for mudblood filth, and all those that didn't have the ability manipulate magic.

He exited the bus in silence, even as he was bade goodbye. Stepping on to the cobles, he drew his hood around him, letting it fall further down than normal before he cast a silent sticking charm to the hood, he couldn't have anyone knocking it off, exposing his identity. Just like the bus, that would not due. His face and identity obscured as he pressed forward, glancing at the sign above the door before glancing around, noting that the muggles paid the locale no mind, despite the time. He entered into the deceivingly loud pub and inn. Moving with subtle ease, he maneuvered himself through the crowd and busy tables. It wasn't late enough for the young and some old witches and wizards to go home, no, it was the type of time they found themselves enjoying life the most.

As he approached the bar, he pulled out a stool, his hand raising as he flagged for the tender and inn keeper. The jovially round man came over, scrubbing a mug as he did, regardless of the iconic cliché picture it captured.

"How can I help you, sir?" He questioned.

"I need a room." Was Harry's simple reply.

The keeper nodded "How long do you need the room, _sir_?, Tom replied, stressing the last word of his sentence, searching of course for a name.

Harry eyed the individual, calculating the risk. He didn't want to be caught but this individual was of course encumbered by secrets, a price of tending an inn. His green eyes searched the man before locking eyes with him. Performing a legilimens could have given him the information he wanted, but again, as with apparition, he had the knowledge and the technical skill, the theory behind it, but without practice he could cause problems, possibly damage himself or expose his late night departure. Coming to a conclusion, he looked at the man once before speaking.

"Indefinitely, and you can put it under my name, Romulus Kensworth." He said, thinking of the most obscure name he could fathom in a few seconds.

"Right you are, Mr. Kensworth. Do you want to pay every morning?" Tom asked.

"I'll pay for the week now." Harry replied.

They made the money exchange, Tom handing the hooded wizard his keys as he moved around the bar, gesturing for one of his floor servers to come over and manage it while he showed their guest to his room. Harry followed Tom before he came to a door and gestured towards it. With a terse nod, Harry passed the wizard, opening the door, and entering just as Tom turned to walk away as well. As he locked the door from the inside, Harry dispelled the sticking charm as he drew his hood off and looked around the room. Drawing his wand, he cast the cleaning charms he remembered, the room had to be impeccable, before he decided to rest his head on it. Withdrawing his belongings he began to arrange them, unshrinking his things before he sat on the bed, looking around once more as the silence enveloped him, though he didn't fear, it was wanted.

With this part complete, Harry could now face the days to come, the tasks he needed to complete to further disassociate himself from those he had once trusted. Were this a few weeks ago, he would have found this jaunt into real life arduous. Perhaps he would have pursued it, but not as calculated. He would most likely have asked for help, but with his mind open and thirsty for knowledge and power, he sought answers on his own. His decisions were his and his alone, and any consequences that came from them were just equally his own, but, consequence would never come to pass if he could manipulate the situation to his advantage. He knew that was one thing he would have to master as he entered the house of snakes. Indecision made him a target, fear made him easy to conquer, insecurity drew unwanted attention. Those were traits of the weak, and a king was not meant to be weak.

Each decision he made as he pushed forward in this path was premeditated, even if loosely planned, they were deliberate; even as he was forced into thinking on the fly, he stood by his decision unashamedly. As he sat on the bed he pondered the next day and the week in full. Contacting solicitors was easy enough, searching his vaults would be simple. He would have to get a wand, a new one, though he couldn't go to Ollivander. The man was an unknown entity, he had no idea if the crafter associated with the headmaster and his affiliates, but he was not willing to take the chance. Perhaps he could find a different wand maker of repute. He faintly remembered the Krum boy mentioning something about a European wand maker named Gregorovitch, He decided to collect his school supplies early, giving himself more time to test and grow. He would find himself a new familiar, one that suited his new guise.

The problem he knew that would cause him the most issue was his age, and concurrent need for a chaperone, a legal guardian. He would have to speak to the solicitors to find out if emancipation was an option, but he was forced to believe it wasn't viable. If that was the case then he was forced to pursue other options. His planning was of course covered by a supplemental blanket of security as he had thought of secondary options, though he was loathe to use this option, he took to heart that corruption was an easy way to succeed in his plans, and Fudge was a corrupt as them all. With a bit of manipulation the idiot would be putty in his hands. His celebrity was of course a means to an end, and if he was a wealthy as those around him seemed to indicate, spending money would be simple enough. Harry felt a faint sense of completion as he envisioned his plans coming to fruition. He was unaware of the storm that was blowing towards him, unsure of the struggles that would present themselves with unmitigated hatred and fury. He was unaware of the darkness that would ensnare him, the black that he would dive into. Though the young and old would not waver in their pursuits, power was what he wanted, no matter the cost.

Free from that home, he could unleash his thoughts in full. He undressed before getting in bed, flicking his wand as the lights in the room blew out leaving him ensnared in darkness. The two weeks after the merger began as well as the time he spent at the Dursley's could have been considered an epilogue, tomorrow though, started the first chapter of his new life.

Closing his eyes, he willed sleep to take him as he cleared his mind, allowing the young and old to further blur the lines of their identity into one cohesive being.

* * *

He should have stuck to the plan, but the idea of entering Knockturn Alley seemed to be simple enough, and he was admittedly drawn to it, pulled to it by its inherently mysterious and shadier personage, combined with the memory of his last and expeditious foray, his young mind coupled with latent desire of the old ones pushed him to wander the shaded and dark streets. He found his ambivalence swayed, only a little bit as he looked up and at the sign that read **Borgin and Burke** , the old mind combined with the young felt a faint note of anger; the only emotion he would succumb to. He had justified this decision by necessitating the need of a new set of cauldrons, those that were imbued by magic's that were a bit off of the Hogwarts traditionalist views and standards. Should he be caught or questioned, he already had a lie in place. To get what he wanted he wasn't above disregarding the morality of the common. After all, didn't a wise wizard once say…"All for the greater good." This path, his path, his decisions, his desire for power at no cost…the merger was all for his own greater good.

Looking at the door he pushed it open, walking in, he began wandering about, his eyes searching the obscure and odd objects that lay here and there. He palmed an orb of some type of crystal, perfectly smooth, perfectly round. It emanated a distant power, magical though foreign.

"Ahh, you have quite an eye their friend. In your hand is a relic of a time long past. One would say from a world that existed parallel to ours, or maybe before ours, regardless it is called a Palantíri."

Harry's eyes snapped up to the man as he released the crystal like ball, allowing it to drop the insignificant distance as it landed on the cushion below it.

"I've never seen you in here before, sir, may I inquire as to who you are?" Such a vague and otherwise innocuous question duplicitous in its own deception, a guise to root and dig. "I Perhaps I could help you find what you need so you don't need to move about aimlessly?" He finished. A staunch smile crossing his lips, exposing brown and rotted teeth. His false sincerity, so blasé. The young and old mind felt a diluted disgust as it looked the man in the eye, nodding his distaste before speaking lightly.

"No need, I was just on my way out." The young heir replied before attempting to side step the owner. Call it taciturn fate, a sad and militant conflagration of chance…but as he moved to get around the man, the man's hand snapped up barely catching the hem of Harry's hood aided by the boy's movement and the slight gust of wind that rocked the door to outside on its hinges, the hood falling because of the gentle ministrations of fate, the dower bitch.

Borgin's eyes grew wide as they settled on the young man's face. Though paler than he ought to be, he couldn't mistake those Avada Kedavra green eyes, the circular framed glasses and albeit longer than he remembered, the messy hair as black as midnight.

"Harry Potter." He whispered, awed, incredulous, sneaky, mystified, all these words meant nothing as gain was what he saw. He was amongst the populace that knew the Dark Lord was indeed back. Oh how he would benefit if he handed him the boy who lived, the perfect gift for the ambitious and powerful man. "I really wish you had not done that." Harry said, voice low, almost unheard. Borgin tried to hide his movements as he tried to draw his wand, but was a touch too slow. Harrys hand was already resting on the handle to his wand by the time Borgin moved to draw his, call it luck or age but his arms moved almost instinctually before he released an overpowered stunner, sending the elder flying into shelves, breaking some of his wares as he fell to the ground, unconscious.

The moment the rennervate struck him, Borgin woke with a start, grunting and clearing his throat, mumbling as he looked around, somewhat disoriented. His head felt heavy, muddled, his back and neck were soar, and he only just realized that he was bound to a chair, however rudimentary that was. His eyes searched the growing darkness, he was faintly aware that he was in his own basement. He tried to string his thoughts together, collecting what memories he could. "Potter!" he gasped in surprise, remembering exactly what happened. He jerked in the chair, trying his hardest to break free, his magic attempted to aid him but it was a futile attempt. "That idiot child, stupid halfblood. When I'm free I will kill you! I'll kill you and give you to the Dark Lord; I'll kill you and all of your friends. Do you hear me boy?!" His frustration had given way to anger.

But his voice stuttered, strangely. His mouth felt heavy, his head fogged and muddy. Had he been drugged? No, possibly, but his private store of poison was under lock and key and charms. What was happening? He could hear footsteps descending down the stairs and in to the basement. The light was distorted as whoever it was walked in front of the lantern. He tried to move his head, eyes searching as he opened his mouth to speak but found that for some reason, he didn't have the strength to manage it. The footsteps continued as he followed the blurry figure before landing on the creator of those steps. "Potter…" he muttered, but he did so in confusion, as if he was stepping out of fog. The man blinked several times and shook his head as if trying to dispel the feeling.

The overtly innocuous feeling of desperation, the feeling of being surrounded and swallowed, the feeling of being crushed.

The closer Harry came to the seated wizard, the more intense the feeling became. This was unnatural, this wasn't poison, it couldn't be, this was something he had encountered once, but he couldn't think of where and when. Power…he thought fleetingly. It was oppressing and dangerous, it was almost like his body innately understood that right now, he was prey. Slowly his breathing increased, his chest heaving as if he was hyperventilating. His eyes were wide with something Harry couldn't discern.

Fear, undiluted fear. That's what it was, His eyes were wary, his face pale.

Borgin was having difficulty keeping his head up, maintaining his cognizance. He could barely manage, and it didn't bother the boy in anyway. The way his arms seemed to tense in anticipation as if he were waiting for something to happen, yet his power seemed to drain itself… Borgins head lawled freely, as if his neck was incapable of holding it up. He managed to clamp his eyes shut as his head felt the pressure increase, his blood vessels protruding with each beat of his heart…He could barely take it. The miasma that was Harry's power threatened to escape, his eyes dark and clouded with his symbiotic relationship with his darker emotions. It seemed to be his purest form of release. The red in his eyes shown clearly as he stepped closer to Borgin, taking a soft breath before he attempted to reign in his power, with the help of the old mind. He intended to become more adept at that in the coming future, considering it could cause him problems at Hogwarts.

When the magic was reined in, Borgin inhaled heavily as if he had been submerged in water, unable to breathe for minutes at a time. "As I said, I wish you hadn't done that…" Harry's voice escaped like a cold pristine note encumbered by malevolent undertones. His red eyes watched the wizard callously, devoid of emotion as he parted his lips to speak, licking them quickly "You wouldn't be in this position had you not been so keen to pry. That is a problem I am ashamed to admit we share with the muggle filth just a stone's throw away."

Borgin looked up, startled by the hauntingly chaotic and malicious look in those red eyes, so perfectly framed by the pale skin and deep black hair. 'Red eyes?' He thought, confused, before he formulated a response. "My…lord?" He muttered, confused as his eyes finally focused. He gasped as his eyes once more took in the form of his captor. "Potter…" he muttered, realizing exactly what happened…"Your eyes…What are you doing?" He questioned, looking around, hoping that there was something he could use to escape from his predicament.

"My eyes?" He paused "I suppose a consequence of my decision. " Harry finished watching Borgin's frantic glances. "It's futile you know?" Harry said to Borgin. "You can't escape." He continued pausing as he moved a chair to sit in front of his captive. "When I initiated my plans, I didn't factor in that there would be slight deviations as they were prompted. I had intended to enact and conquer the list I had burdened myself with. But as I came to Knockturn alley, my mind wanted to visit this place, it is the darkest store I've been in and I was curious to see if it had changed. Obviously that's not the case, though it seemed a bit more full from my accidental appearance here in my second year." Harry finished his wand in hand.

"I can understand your desire to know who frequents your store, ascertain their worth. It's only fitting as a proprietor of such niche items, but your prying has led you into such a precarious situation. " Twirling his wand he stood…

"What are you doing…You know I serve the Dark Lord, he will be looking for me." Borgin paused. "Perhaps I could help you like I help him? Find things you need." He paused, his nerves tingling with fear as he watched the boy circle him once before stopping.

"You have no pride do you?" He asked, his nose wrinkling in disdain. "I've already thought about that, but to be honest, the only way I could be sure was if I used the imperious curse on you, but I have to be honest, I've already thought that. Although you could be of benefit, it would be too easy to figure out you were being controlled, and I personally don't care to waste time with a memory charm…"

Borgins eyes suddenly grew wide once more. "Please, don-"…

"Avada Kedavra." The words escaped Harry's lips, the commanding tone willing death to greet the man. Though Harry felt a slight sense of freedom; It would be a lie to say he hadn't been concerned with how he would react to death, especially if they died by his hand. Moody was different, in that moment he hadn't been given the chance to ponder its effects on his being, besides, that was a necessity 'Kill or be killed' he thought. An animal was of no concern, they were essentially subjects to test abilities and sustain him how he saw fit. This though was different, the acrid scent of death clawing at his nose, the empty look in his eyes as his body lay there limply. The quickened thumping of Harry's heart wasn't of fear or repercussion, it was of a serene comfort.

Emotion was disappearing, leaving only his purest form.

As he turned to leave, he paused for a moment. A decaying body would draw attention. He wracked his mind for a moment before memory brought him to a particular spell. He turned and mouthed the Latin words, moving his wand in the designated pattern as he cast the stasis spell. Simple enough, and it gave him time to inevitably search Borgin's shop in the coming days, there had to be things he could use. Leaving the basement, he crossed the store before pushing the doors open, stopping for a moment to lock the shop up; using a few different spells to insure it wasn't burgled. When finished, he quickly drew his hood, looking around before making his way to the cobbles that lead back to Diagon Alley.

His unexpected foray into the darker region of their world hadn't gone as planned, but that was of no concern. He managed to conquer a potential foe, and in the process, conquer something within him. The hold morality had on him was vanishing quicker than expected, facilitating the merger and swallowing his humanity. He was fine with it perhaps reveled in it, this new freedom he was reaching for. It gave him purpose.

As Harry made his way up the path, he was unaware of two set's of eyes following him, curiosity piqued by the once golden boy and what he could be up to in this depraved corner of a world Dumbledore would never allow him to come to alone.

* * *

 **A/N** : As always read and review constructively. I hope you all liked this chapter. As I said things are going to speed up because I want to get to it. I'm excited. Harry is disregarding morality and humanity more and more. It something I thought would happen in real life, especially after abuse, silence and apathy were your best friend and the only emotions you thrived on anger. As I said the, the merger isn't complete yet, but it will complete soon, The actions going to pick up more and more. I also want to point that in my version of fifth year and on, Harry and Voldemort do not share the link because he and the horcrux united and it was no longer a sentient symbiote. The way I've differentiated his inner thoughts is with old and new mind, but eventually that's going to phase out once it is complete. No this will not be slash, not really my cup of tea. I want to show him get more and more dark and evil, progressively. I think these forays into a world he has never known are a perfect set up as Harry begins to thrive, succumb to dark magic, considering he has unwittingly adopted horcrux/Voldemorts hatred of muggles and muggleborns, his agenda to a point . Question, have I made him cold enough?

Read and Review. Cheers fellow readers.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Anything in bold with asterisks is something straight from the book. All credit goes to the author J.K. Rowling. I in no way profit from this. Going into this chapter, I do want to say that I have always believed that Slytherin's as a whole were opportunists and should they see things change they would try to position themselves as favorably as possible. That being said, I also saw them as being vindictive. One should almost always expect retribution should a Slytherin feel slighted. That is why my depiction of Draco Malfoy seems a bit 'friendlier' than some would think. It's because he is able see that things are changing if not only has the Dark Lord returned, but Harry-bloody-Potter has left Gryffindor and joined Slytherin is anything to go by. I was always of the thought that Draco should have been a lot smarter and a lot more cunning, considering his family, their pedigree, and his upbringing. I believe that the movies gave him no justice, and the books didn't do a good job of fleshing him out. As I said, there will be no slash, but you will see a more assertive and intelligent Draco, along with his entire family. A Draco you can actually respect. I have to say that I will probably follow suit with other characters we only get tid bits of information such as Pansy and Blaise, etc. Other than that, enjoy. As always, please Read and Review.

* * *

 **Chapter 3.** Change is in the air.

The monotonous tap of heels following a specific rhythm over the tick of a grandfather clock broke the otherwise bleak silence. The individual subscribing to the action found his mind wandering to the worst of conclusions as he pondered the situation at hand, all the while pacing up and down his study, hands clasped behind his back as he tried to find a way to break the news he had to his otherwise ill-tempered associate. His grey eyes viewed the distorted image of himself through the reflection of the immaculately polished marble above the fireplace that was skillfully molded into the mantle.

He admonished himself for having not weighed this task out before fleetingly accepting it from Severus. He could not allow himself and his honor to be viewed ignominiously. Yet he found himself shying away from the task if only to avoid the possible repercussions. He could never fathom what the Dark Lord would find pleasing, menial, or outrageous…Perhaps it was his pursuit of immortality that seemed to addle the once handsome man's mind, but through it all Lucius could not deny that Voldemort was uniquely intelligent and powerful, a true genius in and around magic, regardless …he was exceptionally quick to anger.

This news normally would be something to watch casually, perhaps elucidate the need of the action, maybe even wax poetic on the degradation and overall waning grasp of the old ways. It wouldn't hold much stock amongst the individuals he associated with were it any other individual…no it had to be him, the one individual that the Dark Lord loathed beyond any other. The one individual that he quite literally created a new body for himself just to be able to kill him personally. Blasted Harry Potter. He had been a point of contention in the wizarding world since his sudden and rather unbelievable claim to fame, and even during his absence, he continued to curry that fame. There was once a point that he had wanted to perhaps ingratiate himself to the boy wonder, but upon meeting him and seeing him first hand, he hadn't thought the boy special in the least, yet he was the one that defeated the Dark Lord during infancy. So despite his appearance and despite his lingering distaste after Potter had lost him a house elf, he let the thought of revenge go and surmised that he had to be powerful, right, perhaps Potter just didn't know it yet? The years since his son had entered Hogwarts were a wash with news updates from the Malfoy heir. One thing for certain was that Harry Potter had a penchant for breaking rules, perhaps a paternal trait.

But still it wasn't anything too amazing that was until the Triwizard Tournament. Lucius noticed the boy then, the boy and his muted ingenuity. After each task he would ponder his cunning and his prowess. It was rough of course, but he possessed enough craftiness to make it through tests of mind, body, knowledge and skill that many people older than him would have failed to survive.

It wasn't until the end of the tournament, there in the graveyard, he witnessed something he couldn't understand, but felt. As Voldemort toyed with his quarry, he felt a strange stir in the magic around him. He didn't know if anyone else felt it, but surmised that the Dark Lord had felt it as well if the sudden questioning movement of what should have been eyebrows was made and vanished almost just as quick, so quick that Lucius almost missed it. That instance was met with a massive dispersal of air and sheer power that brought them to the ground, yet Voldemort was hurled backwards as Harry and his deceased accomplice vanished in a vein of power that felt achingly familiar, yet diluted by something, all the while bathed in another unknown. This unknown, fearsome and frightening in its lingering weight.

The Dark Lords face told him that he too had thoughts that were perhaps similar to his own…What just happened and what does this mean?

Since then not much news came from Hogwarts. His son said that Potter seemed to get quieter, remaining alone and otherwise unseen and that he, his mudblood friend, and the blood traitor were rarely seen together. Maybe Granger and Weasley, but almost never Potter. If he was honest, he hadn't much cared. He had though that if something magical had happened, Harry Potter would have already exposed himself. But all was quiet, until Severus barged in to his study, summoning him back to his office as he told him what happened.

Potter a Slytherin. He was genuinely surprised by what Severus had explained, but successfully maintained his aloof expression. Unfortunately he hadn't thought before he spoke, simply because he had thought that by taking the request, he would provide the Dark Lord with it and curry his favor by taking the credit. Fittingly he had also forgotten how much Voldemort loathed the boy and how often he found the cruciatus to be a fitting punishment for just about anything.

Finally finding the resolve he walked to his chair, grabbed his cloak and put it on before summoning the green flames of the floo saying the destination and vanishing into the fire.

A few moments later, the green flames roared to life on the other end as he stepped forward will all the poise and confidence of a Malfoy. Walking through the derelict mansion that was Riddle Manor, he couldn't help but to wrinkle his nose for the briefest moments. It seemed the Dark Lords house elves were very busy if the place still looked like that. Though as he continued, he was surprised by what he found, the manor was being renovated, although it looked like piece by piece as it seemed the north end of the home was completely rejuvenated. Pictures of magical places and of scenes of battle ran through the long hallway. Here and there pictures of the various members of the bloodline of Salazar Slytherin were mounted, obviously an homage to his ancestors.

Finally coming to the door to his masters massive faux throne room and meeting area of the Dark Lords

follower's, he rose his hand to knock but was stopped by a voice…

"Enter Lucius, I know you are there."

Lucius's arm dropped to his side before he opened the door and stepped in shutting it behind him. As he entered he maintained a calm poise and crossed the room before standing in front of Voldemort, quickly dropping down to a knee and bowing his head, waiting to be addressed.

"You may rise." The dark lord said.

"Thank you my lord."

"What brings you to me Lucius while I have not summoned you?" The Dark Lord asked.

"My lord, I bring news. News that I believe you would find important." Lucius said as his eyes moved upward before locking on to Voldemort's gaze. They burned red, as red as he could imagine the depths of hell were. His eyes were bathed in knowing hate and dark desires. They were powerful to look at and invariably consuming. His sickly pale skin only espoused their animalistic and monstrous perception.

Tapping his sharp claw like nails, he spoke. "Then speak Lucius, I do not want my time wasted."

Nodding, Lucius regaled him with the strange news and even stranger consequences they had all the while bracing himself for the torment every death eater knew was a possibility. As he finished he looked to his lord, bathed in deep black, surrounded by a throne that glistened with emeralds and housed images of carved snakes devouring their prey. His jaws were clenched tight as his eyes were pointed to the draped window. His nails strummed on the wooden arm rest, before his head slowly turned to Lucius. He looked at his servant, his eyes surveying him before he spoke, a slight pressure erupting from him, the power of an arch-mage making itself known as Lucius sensed it.

For a second Lucius was unsure what was happening before he felt a presence in his head, and a second later a searing pain as he realized the Dark Lord was searching through his memories. Quickly he dropped his occlumency shields to diminish the pain. Lucius almost dropped to his knees before he suddenly felt the invasion disappear.

"You've had this information for a few days, Lucius." Voldemort said, his face impassive though his voice, low, angry, and frightening. "I've always been one to prefer news to be told immediately, especially news including Potter." By now his voice was sharp, it held blades on its tip, dangerous in the true meaning of the word. Voldemort slowly stood, his cloak billowing around him momentarily as his hands dropped to his side. Lucius braced himself, though he was glad he hadn't banked on being pardoned. He blinked extending it for a while before opening his eyes. He was startled at what he saw, his heart pausing for a moment, the dark lords face was no more than a third of a meter before him, wand in hand making him step back with slightly widened eyes.

"Generally Malfoy, I would punish my servants for lying to me, and yes by omission counts, but luckily your faux pas has not caused harm to my plans. The breakout was a success, and today, I find myself being somewhat generous." He paused, his eyes had been roaming the room before they snapped back to Lucius own eyes, locking them as he cast two silent spells, one a silencio and the other a variant of the petrificus totalus charm that forced the casters target to be petrified just like the charm it had been molded from, unlike the other, it forced the target to remain standing, yet somehow allowing the target to feel the full pressure of his or her weight. It had been created as a simple means of torture that could be covered up should someone be investigated because the magic used would appear as the petrificus totalus. It was used on any prisoner that had managed to break any bones in their legs, that included intentional breaks, and force them to remain standing on the broken appendage for any amount of time. A barbaric remnant of a distant past, though effective, especially for those trying to avoid scrutiny. "But I will not tolerate that again." He all but hissed it, his eyes burning with deep displeasure, before he stepped back and went to his chair, releasing Lucius from the spells.

"Forgive me my lor-"

"Spare me Lucius. You will do nothing but observe the boy. For all we know this may be an elaborate ruse formulated by the old man."

"Yes my Lord." Lucius replied.

"You are dismissed." He said with a gesture.

Lucius gladly obeyed, bowing once more before quickly exiting the room. He made a quick dash through the home before coming to the fire he had entered through quickly tossing in the floo powder, muttering his destination and vanishing in the green flames just like before. Stepping out, he quickly removed his cloak and thought. He had escaped punishment, but was now tasked on observing the boy-who-lived. He had no idea where he called home, and if he did what protection the headmaster had given to his golden boy.

"How?" He said aloud and to himself as he resumed the pacing, the monotonous tap of heels following a specific rhythm.

* * *

The raven haired youth had assumed this morning would be simple enough. Perhaps a slight deviation, if only to appease his fleetingly vanishing sense of nostalgia would be okay. The young old mind agreed; though that had been the catalyst of an unwanted and unforeseen mistake.

Plans were a necessity to maintaining order…He was very aware of that. The old minds wisdom continued to leak into the young as their new mind was forming and with that a semblance of logic that dictated his actions, and he found himself disappointed by his own divergence. He would have to return to Borgin and Burkes and ensure that no one could enter for the time being. It wouldn't do for some nosy individual to stumble upon what happened before he was able to rifle through the deceased's things. That being said, he was going to have to read up on more advanced locking spells and wards. That required time, and time required precision and planning. He resolved that today he would not diverge any further and stick to what he meant for himself to do. His fickle indulgence into past memories had already caused him to sway much too far out of his detailed days campaign.

He pulled the cloak further down on his head, deftly hiding the lightning bolt scar with his hair and hood. He was vaguely aware of the individuals around him, moving, hidden and obscured by the odd shadows that allowed them enough cover to keep their eyes down, avoiding direct eye contact just as he did. This place was seedy at best, and one misstep would have him exposed, and then he would have to fight. Though he was actually quite sure of his skill, theoretically, he wasn't quite sure of his implementation…he definitely needed to test, practice, and master.

Looking to his right as he broke free of the oddly dark locale that was Knockturn Alley, he moved back on to Diagon Alley as the sounds of life came back to him. All around him were the noises of adults and children, friends, a gaggle of school girls out and about for the summer, awed children enjoying the luster and magic of the alley, individuals engaging with each other, yet as he walked through the throng, he noticed that many were glued to the newspaper, some whispering as others seemed shell shocked. There were the faint voices of concern as he passed a group of individuals looking quite intently on the prophet.

Harry paused mid step, vaguely aware that he was being followed, call it spatial awareness, a sixth sense, whatever it was, he knew that someone or someone's were watching him. His hand instinctively dropped into the pocket of his cloak, his hand finding its way to the wands handle. Harry's gait had slowed drastically as he neared a stand selling the prophet. Taking one he dropped the necessary coin on the counter, the sales man nodding kindly before he turned away, his eyes momentarily scanning the area immediately behind him, looking for anything out of the norm. Spotting nothing he turned around and withdrew his hand as he pulled open the prophet.

 _ ***MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN**_

 _ **The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban.**_

 _ **Speaking to reporters in his private office, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, confirmed that ten high-security prisoners escaped in the early hours of yesterday evening, and that he has already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the dangerous nature of these individuals.**_

 _ **"We find ourselves, most unfortunately, in the same position we were two and a half years ago when the murderer Sirius Black escaped," said Fudge last night. "Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Black, as the first person ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in his footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals, who include Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals and beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached.***_

Harry's eyes narrowed speculatively…This was some kind of farce. He could see through Fudges fear, the oaf's incompetence. He could see the message that his inglorious lips trembled to say, the fact that he hid behind a story that was more than two years old 'Sirius Black' he thought to himself, scoffing all the while as he looked up momentarily to make sure his path was clear, he paused once more still getting the odd sensation of eyes on him, peering over his shoulder as unobtrusively as possible only to see nothing more than the activity of Diagon Alley per norm. His destination was clear as he surmised it was the most important of tasks.

As he made his way to Ollivander's, having come to the least desirable reality that the man was his only option should he want a decent wand, he pondered the newspaper. He knew it wasn't Sirius, the individual they intended to vilify. Lascivious, yes, whimsical, of course, stubborn, indeed, but culpable of a prison break? Not at all. The man was somewhere, but he knew that Sirius had no connections to his family, his mother had seen to that. Furthermore, Dumbledore would never allow the wizard to leave, if only out of fear that his assistance in aiding a fugitive would cast him in a less than favorable light. He was still dealing with the aftermath from the end of the Triwizard Tournament. The Auror's who had seen Sirius had been obliviated, but Amelia was less than pleased, only stymied by her respect for the Headmaster. The head of DMLE had promised the headmaster that they would have words, sooner than later. He did not doubt that the headmaster would remain vigilant in that secret though. It was unfortunate, but there was always the possibility that Harry's planning would have to undo that little string of secrets, should plan A not work. Harry saw through the lies and ill plot machinations of the Minister. Voldemort was the most obvious perpetrator. To admit it would admit his return. His return would see pressure on the untried minister whom took control after the war was over, and somewhat glorified because he happened to insert himself during a trying time. His own regime had yet to taste the ire of the wizarding populace. Though Harry had firsthand experience at how easily the world they lived in could be swayed…It only took the right whisper, a gentle prod and the whims of an individual could infect the world around them with whatever thoughts their breath carried.

But this had the potential to cause a problem. It was almost without doubt that Dumbledore would know who the true offender was. This would either force him to increase the amount of protection he afforded number 4 for Harry's sake, or remove Harry from the home altogether. "Shit..." Harry muttered, a momentary lapse in control as the offending word slipped through his lips, though silent enough to only be heard by himself. It was a situation he had not accounted for; and it could pose a massive problem. His mind was a lit with questions, he was formulating new ideas at a rate that even surprised him. Cause and effect, theories, solutions coming to mind as he attempted to mitigate his internal turmoil. It wasn't that he was afraid of the effects of his last plan, it was that he was less than pleased that what he had concocted needed to be changed on the fly, and uncertainty was something he could not afford moving forward. He had to be resolute and equally certain, in himself and in his schemes. That being said, he understood that one thing was glaringly clear, time was not his friend as his plans could remain intact, they simply had to be pushed forward, sped up…the only problem was that speed could create error and the margin of error he could afford was slim, virtually nonexistent. Error whether by himself or especially an outside source would not be tolerated.

The old and young minds thoughts aligned with more ease as the line that separated them grew fainter. His green eyes studied the paper as he walked towards the wand shop. Though, yet again, he was harassed by the increasingly insufferable sensation of being watched, unwanted eyes upon him; though this time he was positive that it was not just a feeling. He slowed his pace before indiscriminately stepping to the side behind a group of women, fawning over an infant in a basinet stroller. His brows furrowed as he slid along the wall, his cloak barely touching the exposed brick before ducking into the closest alley, all the while withdrawing his temporary wand, and tapping his own head, not realizing that he was performing silent spells as the sensation of someone cracking an egg on his head slid from his scalp and down the length of his body, as he vanished from sight, his form taking on the hue of the wall behind him as he crouched and stood as still as he could, hoping the telltale translucent shimmer was as unnoticeable as possible.

Harry's breath slowed as he pushed himself against the wall, wand in hand, his eyes scanning for anyone out of the norm only to fall on two hooded individuals walking as nonchalantly as possible, all the while trying to maintain an air of uncaring, their shadowed faces casually moving back and forth as they tried to gauge the location of their quarry.

The pair in question slowed down their pace, pausing lightly. "Where did he go?" One questioned as they cut through the throng of people, side stepping an offending wizard, whilst the other move around the same group of women who were still lavishing the child. The other, taller wizard or witch shrugged demurely…their unseen eyes scanning the crowd. The shorter individual pivoted on their heel as they pushed through the women, stepping out and in front the same alley Harry had claimed as his own. She was clearly unaware of the wizard in question crouched low, his muscles taught as the magic within him supplemented his strength and speed. The shorter individual turned to look into the alley, their eyes completely moving above Harry before they turned back to their companion.

"I don't see him." A clearly feminine voice said "How could he h-" She didn't have the chance to complete her sentence as the boy in question moved, taking advantage of her unprepared stance as his left arm curled around her neck and tightened, his wand drawn, he placed it just under her chin and drew her back into the relatively dark shadows of the alley. The other magical turned sharply as he followed his companion, knowing someone was there, pulling her back before the movement stopped. He drew his wand, but was stopped as the invisible individual spoke.

"I wouldn't do anything too rash, if the continued use of your friends head is of importance to you." His voice carried the distance between them, hollow yet malign enough for the hairs on the back of the other person's neck to stand on edge. He conceded as his hand withdrew from his pocket and dropped to his side. Harry though was vaguely aware of the pressure he was exerting on the other individuals neck before she began to gasp slightly, though he would admit he didn't care at all. The pair had done a terrible job at following him. But their lack of planning did not constitute an emergency for him, in fact their lack of planning was a benefit to him. His wand slowly began to emanate a faintly purple light, the magic coalescing at the tip, his unseen eyes shedding their pervasive green hue as the obligatory red burned in to existence spurred by his foul delight at the persons fear he could sense, their trembling body noting the wave of magical energy that swallowed her.

"Why were you following me?" He asked, his voice a faint whisper now, though carrying edge, slithering in the soft gusts of the mornings wind as its duality was noted by both magicals, the conscience desire to lash out, only reined in by his apparently massive will as the slowly heady feeling of a superior entity washed over them. They felt the significant hatred that escaped the individual, the same magic seeming to separate them from the rest of the alley. Here only this trio existed. The wizard across from him let out a slow breath as he felt as if a blanket had been thrown over them, a stagnating heat clutching at his lungs with each breath of the magically diluted air.

What was happening?

Harry though was completely unaware of the noxious effect his magic was having as the pair physically felt what they assumed to be his intent, lancing through them and subjugating them.

"D.." The girl whimpered as the other attempted to remain standing, his will forcing him to fight off the effect of whatever this was. "Draco…" She finally muttered, although a faint whisper her words were laced with fear, pushing the other wizard forward, spurred on by the innate reaction of a male to defend a female.

As she said his name, Harry heard as well, his eyes swiveling to her, vaguely remembering the voice before turning to the other figure. His young old mind claimed control from his subconscious as it wrestled to gain superiority of the ever expanding dark miasma that was his magic.

As it withdrew and the pressure subsided, Draco finally felt fully in control. The heady feeling vanished, giving clarity as he withdrew his hood, exposing his blonde almost white hair glistening in the waning light of the alley. "What the bloody hell was that." He muttered, his eyes wide as he stared at the prostrated form of his companion before he watched her shoved forward by an invisible force as she immediately gasped for precious air, coughing slightly all the while rubbing her neck. She turned slowly, dropping her own hood, her wand in hand now as she pointed it towards the invisible foe.

The boy in question silently murmured the cancelling spell as his body slowly became visible. He did the same as Draco, dropping his hood as he looked between the pair and finally at the tip of the wand that was pointed towards him. "Tell whoever she is to drop her wand." Harry said, his voice a mask of nothingness, no emotion found, though his eyes threatened to return to malevolent red.

"Pansy, stop" Draco acquiesced as he closed the gap between him and the girl, now standing by her side as his hand moved up to her arm and gently pushed it downward. The girl was angry, that much was obvious as she pushed against Draco's ministrations before allowing his strength to force her down. "What are you playing at Potter?" She finally huffed.

"I could say the same." He replied. "Following me wasn't such a good idea, was it Parkinson?" He rebuked.

"It wasn't her idea, it was mine." Draco replied, "I admit that perhaps we should have just approached you exposed, but who wouldn't be curious when they see the - boy - who lived himself exiting Borgin and Burkes, hooded and sneaking away. It did paint an interesting picture, wouldn't you agree?" Draco finished with a smirk.

Harry though eyed the pair before relenting. He admonished himself for being careless. He would have to be more vigilant in the future. If two children could trail him so simply, he could have been followed by any of Dumbledore's contacts just as easily. His eyes fell to the girl and back to Draco. "I suppose you are right." He replied.

Pansy puffed slowly before looking back to the ex-Gryffindor. "So then, what were you doing, Potter?" She asked. "You do owe me that much, after trying to choke me to death."

"I haven't the slightest idea how you can come to the conclusion that I owe you anything, Parkinson." He paused, his pupils contracting almost to a point, espousing the vibrant emerald of his eyes, now though perpetually flecked with discordant rays of red surrounding said pupil. "If anything, you owe me for allowing you to continue to breathe. You survived our encounter purely by my indecision and questioning. If Draco had not shown himself, or hesitated for a moment longer, you would have found yourself void of the lower half of your jaw." He finished, his voice clear and concise. There was no hint of humor or fear in his admission, and the poignant stare he afforded her only solidified his statement, making it more real and actually leaving Pansy with a sudden sense of unease as she looked at the boy.

Draco was instantly aware of the Potter heir, correlating the show of magic beforehand. He looked him up and down for a moment, using the seconds as the new Slytherin finished his rebuke to Pansy. His assertion on the train could not have been more wrong. Harry had indeed changed, more than just his poise and speech. He admitted that magically Harry had always been powerful, even if he was not aware of it, that didn't matter, power was power. But what he felt today, the growth of that power…it was exceptional, mesmerizing to an extent as it had subconsciously tested him. The pureblood in him revolted against this, but the opportunist, molded by his father, saw the merits of an association. The depth of Harry's magic seemed unfathomable and he had the inkling that was merely the tip of the iceberg.

His eyes narrowed speculatively. Since the Triwizard Tournament, Harry had been different, meaning that something happened then. Something about that evening was the catalyst of the change in the wizard before him, and he wanted to know. Yes, he would take the lead now, brokering an equally amenable relationship and perhaps a friendship. His father had taught him to always look for an opportunity no matter where it came from. In the past he had used those opportunity's to antagonize his once foe, though now…that opportunity would come from friendship, whether for ill or gain only time would tell.

Draco walked up beside Pansy, putting his pale hand on her shoulder, steadying the young woman as he sensed her worry. Almost instantly Pansy calmed down at his touch. "Sorry about that Potter." He paused looking at Pansy, "Like I said, we were curious and almost positive you wouldn't tell us, no matter how we asked, so we thought we would see what you were up to." He finished, his voice not quite as snide as normal as he extended his hand in apology. Harry for his part broke his porcelain like mask with a smirk before looking at the hand. He extended his own and shook it, accepting the apology, though maintained his guard. The old young mind knew that Slytherin's were sneaky, and the Malfoys sneakier.

Pansy, in all her life would never have believed what she had seen if anyone had told her, but to see Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy shake hands? Well…apparently the world had flipped and she was in some augmented reality where Gryffindor's were dark wizards with potent magic and Slytherin's were meek little snakes hiding from predators in a bush. She eyed the pair, somewhat unsure how to proceed before she felt a hand on her lower back as Draco pushed her forward. She immediately understood as she extended her own hand as an apology, her eyes turning to Harry's as she watched for the briefest of moments a small show of amusement cross his eyes before reverting to the cold and were she to admit domineering gaze.

"I'm sorry for my part, Harry." She followed, testing the level of familiarity she could push with him. She noted that Harry's brows almost imperceptivity moved, whether in anger, amusement or in questioning she couldn't tell, but he seemed to accept it as he shook her hand as well. The young lady following to Pureblood decorum, curtsying slightly. She smiled to herself at Harry's questioning glance.

"A habit Harry." She said with the slightest hint of a smile. "Pureblood decorum and such, something I'm sure Draco and I can help you with, now that you're associating with the right sort of individuals."

"Of course we will." Draco cut in. Stepping forward, putting his hand on Harrys shoulder as he pivoted on his heel turning around to face Pansy, barely catching the ignoble glare of the greenish eyed boy before promptly dropping his hand.

"Since that's been all sorted, what say we join our house mate this afternoon?" he said, Pansy nodding in agreement. He looked at Harry who seemed to be caught in thought for a moment.

Thought was correct as he weighed the pros and cons. Unfortunately, the pros outweighed the cons. With them with him he didn't look as suspicious, fully robbed and cloaked, attempting to hide in plain view. His hood would have to remain up, shrouding at least the top part of his face, anonymity had to be maintained. Taking a moment longer, he nodded before passing the pair slow enough for them to follow him. Draco had to physically stop himself from taking the lead, which was actually rather hard, considering he was used to the position of alpha. He reminded himself that things seemed to be different, if the demeanor of the wizard he thought he knew, even if it was as enemy had changed so much in less than a month.

One could question, rather one would question the strange and seemingly quick accord between two of Hogwarts somewhat prolifically biggest names. It wasn't their apparent popularity that would facilitate such unanimity, no. It wasn't false pretense, because owing to their disposition, the individuals knew the age old phrase 'Enemy of my enemy is my friend.' In the snakes den, that tenant was an unspoken law, something that each and every pureblood child knew, perhaps even half-bloods at the least those that strove to understand the world around them. It didn't do any good to dwell on the past, childish happening between a pair of boys that prostrated angst and petty squabbles. No, despite the youth clearly displayed, they each had been tested as children to some extent, Harry of course being the winner, were rotten upbringings the contest. None the less, Harry understood that even with his new frame of thought, he would need an in amongst the snakes; his golden boy image was much too shiny for the succinct denizens of the dark and perpetually cool dungeons and Draco, regardless of his pompous demeanor was that in.

"Where are we going?" Pansy asked, walking on Harry's left as Draco was on Harry's right.

"Ollivander's." Harry replied

"But you have a wand." Pansy continued.

He drew the wand out looking at it momentarily before replying. "It's not mine."

Panys's eyes widened for a second before a speculative look framed her face, her eyes darting from the wand and to his stoic appearance. She admitted that of all the girls she particularly enjoyed some wrong doings; at least the ones that excited her, made her heart beat a bit faster, and stimulated her adrenaline all on a more primal level. She bit her bottom lip for a moment, a coy smile gracing her face before her lips pursed. "So you beat another wizard in a duel and claimed his wand? That still doesn't explain why you're using that one. What happened to yours?" She said somewhat breathlessly.

Draco though smirked slightly as he watched Pansy question Harry. She had always been interested in such things, though he was surprised that she would espouse that part of herself in front of Potter, regardless of his household allegiance. She was generally guarded to people aside from those that she knew well enough. Perhaps she thought along the same lines he did, understanding that this association could turn out to be beneficial. Through it all though he remained quiet, his eyes looking over the individuals that moved around the alley. Some paid them attention, he was used to that, whilst others simply continued. His eyes turned back to the shop in question, no more than a few meters away as he listened to Harry's response.

"My wand was broken." He paused as they approached the shop. "And I suppose you could say I beat this wands previous owner…considering I used his own wand to kill him." He finished, walking up the steps of the shop and pushing the door open, entering before they could formulate any kind of response. He smiled inwardly as both of their eyes widened, almost comically, the door to the wand shop almost closing before Draco caught it and pulled it open, admitting himself and pansy.

"You can't ju-" he began but was silenced as Harry rose his hand. He scowled, clearly not liking this but acquiesced once more…'Opportunity…' he thought to himself, glancing at Pansy as she giggled lightly, his own face reddening a bit before he turned to look at the approaching shuffle of feet thinking to himself, he most definitely would get to the bottom of that.

Coming around the open doorway that led to the back room of his store, Ollivander graced them with his appearance behind the counter that separated him and his clientele. His willowy hair clung to the sides of his face, a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead that he dabbed at with a worn towel he pulled from his pocket. Resting his hands on the counter in front of him, he turned his eyes towards the trio.

"10 inches long , hawthorn wood, unicorn hair core…reasonably pliant…" He paused, "No doubt you have cherished the wand Mr. Malfoy. Turning to Pansy he continued "Miss Parkinson, 9 ¾" long, made of ash, a tricky wood, and a dragon heart string at its core. Very stubborn but very loyal." His eyes turned slowly to the last of the group "11 inches long, made of holly with a phoenix feather core…very unique" He paused "very powerful…" He greeted, his sallow and faded grey eyes pausing on each as he said their names before swiveling back to Harry and stopping. The watery appearance vanishing as they focused almost unnaturally on the young wizard, wiping his forehead once more. "Excuse me children, but I've been busy clearing up the back room." He said in way of an apology.

Looking around momentarily, as if searching for something, he found what he had been looking for, grasping the arm of a stool and pulled it behind himself. "Forgive me; these old bones don't like to do too much work anymore." He paused as he sat himself on the edge of the stool, not actually sitting in it. "I must admit, I didn't expect to see you anytime soon since our impromptu meeting for the weighing of the wands. I have to say congratulations Mr. Potter, I hear you performed spectacularly, good win for Hogwarts eh? Though I am surprised to see you with these two."

"And what do you mean by that?" Draco cut in, a pompous flare in his voice as he turned his chin upward proffering a slightly regal stance all the while narrowing his eyes as he stepped forward, hand sliding to his own wand in his pocket.

"I meant no disrespect Mr. Malfoy; I just expected to see Mr. Potter here with the two that normally accompany him. I never would have thought to see you, Mr. Malfoy, consorting with those others, please accept my apology." The aged wizard replied, quickly. He understood how that could have been seen as a slight, and considering the hotheaded youth, that was exactly what he thought…Ollivander wasn't a fool though and acquiesced, the Malfoys were a dangerous family, a family that took slights seriously, and considering his age and waning health, he did not wish to aid deaths race to embrace him any quicker.

Malfoy having been placated, released his grasp on the wand in his pocket as he caught Harry's glance before he spoke. "Some friendship's cannot endure the stress of change, be it in ideal, morality, desire or maturity. In those instances one must decide how they will proceed; attempt to fix what is broken or move on knowing that some things are not meant to or cannot be fixed." Harry paused, "I chose to move on, Mr. Ollivander, as things for me have changed. Associations must be looked at in the grand scheme of life…influences taken into consideration, and for someone like me, someone that has been exalted and defamed in the same sentence, it's only prudent that I step lightly, wouldn't you agree?" He stopped to pace his diatribe before continuing in a faux somber voice. "That being said Mr. Ollivander, I require a new wand."

So blatantly honest, Ollivander thought to himself as he perceived the young man. So different from how he looked the first time, a young and pale, skinny boy. Short for his age, wearing mismatched clothes much too big for him, he had guessed hand me downs. Broken glasses on an innocent and excited face. Amazement gleaming in those once emerald green eyes with a hint of luminous chartreuse as he absorbed everything his eyes could, recording them in his young mind. Sorting them out for the inevitable plethora of questions he was going to ask; now a distant memory. The years had changed him, he noticed this at the wand weighing, but the biggest change was the time since the Triwizard tournament. Deep, fern green eyes, flecked with odd specks of red stared at him fully, barring an unnatural edge. That once young and animated face bore a similar appearance to his younger self, though now pale and more matured. His guise was an alabaster mask of antipathy and apathy framed by hair darker than a starless night, no moon to give a reprieve from the surrounding shadows. A pity, he admonished. A great pity for a child that had lost so much and continued to lose more and more. Resentment would pave the inevitable temperament that would be created in the recesses of an ostracized mind. A seer he was not, but someone that had an innate sense of magic an ability his father had told that that was something only the greatest of wandcrafters had and being an Ollivander, he was amongst the greatest.

"Of course, of course." He said with a smile belying his thoughts. "Though it is a pity that you lost your first wand. It was a treasure I say, one that I had hoped to exist for some time, alas it seems fate was not kind to that wand. At least it served you well." He moved slowly at first as he brought down a few boxes and placed them on the counter in front of Harry. "I remember that your dominant hand was your right hand." He said as he began opening the boxes, exposing the new wands, one after the other. "But I must ask, now that you are familiar with your magic and its feeling, would you say that your right hand is still your dominant one?" He asked the young man.

"Yes." Harry said before he thought quickly. Perhaps he wasn't though. He had never taken the time to try using his magic with his left hand. The old mind gave clarity to the young one, thoughts flowing freely as two were almost soundly one. He succumbed to ego allowing it to be a vector for his premonition; it was almost as if he had the innate sense and ability to deftly say that it was a strong possibility that he was ambiguous. If that was the case, then he would eventually have to acquire a second wand to avoid suspicion.

"Come, try this wand" Ollivander beckoned. "It may feel a bit strange at first, much different from your first wand. Don't let that deter you though, take the wand and give it a very slight flick of the wrist." He paused as he chuckled. "Though I'm certain you already knew this." He finished as Harry stepped towards the wand. He gave it a glance, a quick once over, his eyes taking in the handle before he reached for it and took the tool into his palm.

Immediately he felt it was wrong. It was like handling a hollow reed, almost weightless and empty. He felt nothing from it but an intrusive emptiness. It was almost like his magic was recoiling from it, recoiling from the bleak and austere blah that this wand represented. He dared to give it a flick, but a note of curiosity captured him, perhaps he would try only a flick. Knowledge was gained by trial error. He had convinced himself as he flicked the offensive creation. The feeling was worse now as he felt his magic push into the wand; force itself through the wood, struggle against a force unseen before escaping on the other end in the form of a lifeless ball of flame. He instantly sneered at the creation before flicking his wrist once more, vanishing it before he set the wand down.

"I don't like it." He said matter of fact like, leaving no room for opposition as his eyes turned toward the crafter. He placed the wand on the counter between them.

"Indeed, indeed. Very rare that we get the correct wand on the first try." He said as he shuffled the boxes before bringing them before his client.

This procedure endured as wand after wand was placed before his client, each not reacting to Harry as he grasped them, flicked the, twirled them or simply handled them. Draco was growing steadily weary as he would cast tempus every now and then, watching the time tick itself away. Pansy had found a seat and was idly twirling a strand of hair as he leaned her head against the back of the chair. She had always prized herself on her patience.

Harry though was growing more and more frustrated. With each wand he found his temperament worsening, each swish found his jaw tensing. Finally as he grasped the last wand on the counter he flicked it as it gave a slight show of green sparkles before waning into nothingness as he brought the wand to the counter with force.

He looked at the wand and back to Ollivander as he found his frustration had worn his patience to its breaking point. "I've grown tired of this Ollivander, very tired. I came here because you are the best crafter in England. A crafter that has never been unsuccessful at matching a wizard or witch with a wand, yet thus far I can confidently say you have been failing. Stop pushing wand after wand in front of me and acquiesce to your failure."

Draco and Pansy had both jumped, startled out of their boredom driven stupor as Harry slammed the wand on the counter. They listened as the young man spewed his vitriol to the owner of the shoppe, whom had taken a step back as he felt a sudden cold leech into his veins. The trio distantly felt the heaviness of something faintly sinister, something alien as each unknowingly pulled themselves back from the angered wizard. Draco and Pansy watched, not in fear, though they were adequately encumbered by worry, but interest. Draco more so as he felt that magic once more, so similar to the heaviness that had blanketed the field after the final task, Pansy was more intrigued in the way Harry spoke to Ollivander. It was a surprise to see the easy mannered boy-who-lived berating someone, let alone the crafter of almost every wand in England for almost a century.

"Forgive me Mr. Potter." Ollivander cut in as the boy paused. His senses felt a sudden danger, the hairs on the back of his neck rising, almost warning him of the apex predator that loomed so closely. He glanced at boy once more; the anger he possessed, the deep seated animosity lingering in his eyes, almost daring anyone to question it. Yes, something had changed in the meek young man; something that warranted caution. But that power? That power when even significantly muted by the boy and by wards and rune structures Ollivander had built to help reign in accidental magic was awesome, frightening, hungry, feral yes, but none the less awesome.

"I wonder…" He began, mirroring the same words he had used so long ago in the presence of the same boy. "Wait here" he said before vanishing into the back, almost as if Harry would actually leave. The drop of boxes could be heard, a faint thump here and there before the sound of wheels were replaced by the echo of the old man's shoes as he returned to the front. He set a rectangular box draped in a cloth on the counter before them as he removed the silk like material and left it underneath the box. The box itself was a deep almost blackish red wood with nothing on it. Its beauty came from its refined lines and the fact that the wood had been polished to a shine so pristine it could only have been achieved with delicate magic. Using fingers that would leave a mark to open it was more than a shame. "This was something my father left me." He looked at Harry. "This was the only wand my father ever sought help fashioning. It is an amalgamation of work from my father and Milos Gregorovitch, Mykew Gregorovitch's father." He looked down at the item. "Both my father and Gregorovitch were spectacular crafters, each with skill so great that they were sought out worldwide. Though different, very different in their style, it was that difference that made them both so spectacular. As you can guess, Gregorovitch the younger and I both inherited much of our talent from our father's, but where my father looked to the past and relied on what was established only to delve into the old and esoteric, I looked to the future of wand crafting, better cores, more woods and the like. That being said, they both shared a unique passion in history both real and fake. The pair came together to test themselves and to test the laws of wand making. Each knew they were equally skilled albeit inimitably different, and it was both the differences and similarities that allowed the pair to put their heads together and attempt to create a wand similar if not equal to the wand in the tales of the Peverell bothers."

"Those are nothing more than story's mums tell their children before tucking them in to bed." Draco cut in. "Nothing more than myths and tales."

"Perhaps Mr. Malfoy, but wouldn't it be safe to assume that some myths have root in truth?" He questioned before returning his attention to Harry. "Have you heard the tale of the Deathly Hallows Mr. Potter?" He questioned.

Harry remained silent for a moment as he scoured his memories both young and old, though could only grasp on mentions of the tales though nothing alluding to a full retelling. "Only bits and pieces, never the story in it entirety.'" He admitted.

"Ahh, then it is my duty to tell you young man." Not waiting for an answer, he immediately dove in. ""There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight…"

Ollivander spoke in a soft voice, only growing in strength as the story necessitated. Harry found himself mildly amused for the most part until the wizard reached the appearance of the personification of death and the mention of an invisibility cloak. Harry's eyes grew wide for only the barest of moments as he wondered to himself if the very cloak he possessed was the cloak in the story. It couldn't be though, right? Surely Draco was correct in his statement; this was nothing more than a story. It did peak his interest enough to decide to do some research into this tale, more so at the mention of the elder wand. Harry could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on point at its mention. A wand witch such power…He could barely fathom it, and if it was real, well, the young man decided that it had to be his.

This knowledge though drew his favor, as he turned his eyes to the wand he had been presented with. The box remained closed, which added to the thrill Harry felt. Could such a wand be replicated? Could something so powerful be remade by the mortal hands of wand makers, some of the greatest indeed, but mortal none the less?

"Before you take the wand in hand, I must tell you that both my father and Gregorovitch the elder thought there attempt to recreate the death stick a failure; though considering they had nothing in which to judge it with, they couldn't come to a concise conclusion. They decided that they had begun to meddle in things far too abstract and unknown. Who were they to believe themselves equal to death? Though the truth was that in their attempt to match the creation and their subsequent failure, they had created something that both wizards shrunk from. They had birthed a wand that they both feared and felt unnatural in their presence." Ollivander looked down at the box, "My father said that when they ended their experiment, Milos would not take the wand with him, he would have nothing to do with it. He felt that they had tried to step into the world of gods and in doing so created an abomination. He said that death was laughing at them right now and soon he would pay them a visit for trying what they did…" Ollivander looked up at Harry, the boy's eyes staring intently at him, waiting for him to finish this tale. "It came as a surprise to my father when he heard tale of Milos's death two fort nights later, furthermore as it was said that Milos eyes were closed tight as if he saw something he never wanted to see again."

Harry's eyes moved to the boxed wand, staring at it intently, his eyes roving over the polished wood. He couldn't help but agree with Milo's to some extent, how foolish of them to think they could match death; but true interest had sprouted at the mention of the fear they both felt after its creation…what was it that could affect two renown masters of their shared craft?

"Be careful Mr. Potter, my father was no cryptic but he firmly believed this wand to be something else, his greatest and worst creation. Not even I have seen this wand, but I can tell you, I have felt strange when around it. My father feared it so much so that he kept my mother and I away from it until I began my apprenticeship." He smiled slightly, a smile stemming from memory and emotion, maybe reliving the past. "Perhaps, you can waylay those fears; perhaps you are the one meant to master it?" He finished.

Ollivander watched as Harry's hands rose from his side and towards the closed box, his finger touching the refined wood before he pushed the lid open, letting it rest on the silk like material. The wand was strange and beautiful, deep, dark with a gentle burst of grey that ran along the center. The handle itself was bowed, almost as if you would hold it like a muggle gun though curved and not so pronounced. The wood there was dark, darker even than the remainder of the wand though somewhat rustic, playing as if the wood was still part of nature, though all around the topmost part of the handle, what he called the guard, were the most intricate of designs trailing all along the curved handle and into the base. The natural lines of the wood gave way to intense definition, marking where both wizards' had shared their work and a mastery of wood crafting that shown through the base to the tip. Harry smiled slightly, his eyes washing over the wand before he ran a finger down its spine, his finger recoiling almost instantly. This caused Ollivander's eyes to widen in shock, though before he knew it Harry's eyes had also grown wide, a smile crossing his lips as he reached forward and grasped the handle of the wand.

Harry had never felt anything like it. The wand was a rush of cold, tainted power. It felt like cold fire, pain and ecstasy not unlike the venom of the basilisk and the tear of the phoenix still coursing through his veins, tingling and moving up and down his arm before making its way through out his body. It was like two entities, obviously emulating its creators, though it mirrored Harry perfectly as the two entities had long since become one. It was powerful and yearned for a master that could take it, force it to submit, wield it and make it create magic the likes of none before. It hummed a sinister note as it welcomed Harry into its vast and endless dark. He could feel that this wand was a kindred soul, a kindred soul meant only for him; a kindred soul created by selfishness, hued by lust for power, birthed by deceit and misgiving and perfected by anger and wrath. Its creators had never been able to use it, they feared it. They feared what they perceived to be its vast emptiness, a dark deeper than the night, an emptiness that caused them to shake. In their desire to recreate the Elder wand, they gave shape to something else, something they could not perceive as Gregorovitch had wanted nothing to do with the wand and Ollivander had set the wand as far away from thought as possible.

"Mine." Harry muttered, his voice soft, yet silky and possessive in a nature that was once not his, but now, now it was …delirious in the feeling, relishing it as its intricacy was far beyond his holly wand. The sensation he felt as he and the wand became one bordered on sexual, his eyes were heavy and his breathing deep. " …Mr. Potter?" He heard distantly his eyes began to focus once more. "Mr. Potter?" he heard again. "HARRY!" another voice yelled, drawing him from his elation as his eyes quickly focused, swiveling around before he pivoted on his heel and turned to face the offender. "What!?" He demanded back.

Draco's eyes were wide as he took a step back from the wizard though brought his hands out and gestured around him. Harry eyes narrowed before he looked around only to surprise himself. Everything in a twelve foot radius was floating; he had no idea that he released this much of his magic in his delight. He mentally berated himself before he drew in a breath and used the collected knowledge of the young and old to reign in the power. As he did he stood to his full height, opening his eyes once more before he looked at the wand again, his eye's not wanting to look at anything else. He did however note that controlling himself was something he would have to learn soon, he couldn't be caught making shows like this any longer.

"Elder wood… 13 ¾ inches long, fashioned to a point" Garrick Ollivander began. "My father had spent eleven years of his youth searching for it and only found enough to make this one wand. He never found any more." He paused though it was more like a hesitation before he looked at the trio, still confounded by the sheer massiveness of Harry's latent magic. "The core…well, it's less…less exalted as the wood it is surrounded by." Ollivanders voice was soft, almost fearful mired in slight revulsion and ironic pride. "Its two, one could say three cores made one. A wing feather of a phoenix on its burning day, wrapped in the heartstring of an ancient and decaying dragon, further soaked in basilisk's venom that nearly cost my father his life." Taking a breath he continued. "Both knowing the cost that must be paid to see a thestral, neither my father nor Gregorovitch knew of where to find a Thestral's hair already plucked, but knew that Thestral's were creatures of death themselves…They thought that they could match the thestral hair by collecting ingredients from powerful creatures that were either dying, were dead, or caused death. This is what they used as the wands core and this is what they said caused the feeling they felt, why they would never try to wield it." He looked to the wand. "But it seems to have chosen its master." The old man finished.

And chosen it had, if Harry had anything to say about it. He would never part with this beauty that caressed the shadows of his own mind. He looked at the aged master. "Well then, how much do I owe you?" He questioned, his voice losing its liveliness and bordering on uninterested almost hurried.

"Nothing, Mr. Potter nothing at all." He smiled, his age showing. "you've done enough, giving my father's wand a home and a master. Perhaps you will do great and wonderful things with what my father dismissed as corrupted." He finished, willowy in voice.

Harry and the other two both acknowledged the wizard once more before vacating the shoppe.

"Well that was fun…" Draco said sarcastically.

Harry stopped and turned to face the pair, pulling his hood up once more. "No one told you to follow me Malfoy." He said blankly, his lips pursed slightly.

"You're right, we have only us to blame but since your show on the last day of term we really had no choice. Who knows what the great Harry Potter will do next?" He raised a brow. "We have to be the first to know, better yet the first to see." He finished with a slight chuckle as pansy giggled. Harrys face remained apathetic, an alabaster mask marred by a lightning bolt scar. He turned from the pair, the young and old minds wiping away their useless banter as he casually flicked his wand, muttering tempus only to have his eyes grow wide…"The trace…" he whispered to himself.

"What?" Pansy asked as if Harry had been speaking to her.

Harry shook his head and waited, counting to fifteen before looking around only to smile inwardly.

There was no trace on this wand. He should have figured if the wand had been set aside for so long. They probably thought they would never sell it. But they did, and Ollivander was right, Harry would do great things with it.

Noting the time he decided it was time to pay Gringotts a visit. He turned slightly, casually eyeing the pair that followed him. It would do him better were he in a group, friends, that is what they would see, children enjoying each other. It would appease any lingering eyes and absolve him of scrutiny, though this mind understood long ago that such things brokered weakness and attachment was a truly illogical weakness. They could be seen as his associates anything further would be brokered in time. He knew he had wasted time, far too much of it and had to waylay any other unplanned expeditions and focus only on what he had planned on. Turning swiftly, he stepped forward, already knowing that Draco and Pansy would follow. Harry was something they didn't truly understand, and in their quest for knowledge, they would follow him only to appease their curiosity. They wanted to know if he was valuable or expendable, much like any other Slytherin; they weighed their profit vs loss and right now, riding on the coat tails of the venerable youth who forced the supreme mugwump of the international confederation of wizards and headmaster of Hogwarts to bend knee and acquiesce to his demands was the most prudent of expenditures. Add to it that he was a late addition to the den of snakes, slayer of the dark lord, parselmouth possible heir of Slytherin, and Triwizard Tournament Champion, well they had enough reason to watch and ponder the Potter heir.

Though Harry's green eyes were alive with interest, interest in what limits he could break with this wand of his. Pulling his hood lower, he barely hid the ever growing flakes of crimson that momentarily concealed his emerald opals.

* * *

Draco and Pansy remained quiet and impassive as they sat in the periphery of Harry's meeting, waiting to be served.

Pansy though could barely reign in her barely veiled impatience. It was curious to her that Harry was doing the same and that left her wondering yet again. The young wizard was a quandary, one moment he bared no similarity to the Gryffindor she had seen around the castle; domineering, cold, empty of emotion though certainly not lacking in power, he had shown all of this just in the wand shop. His face a mask she definitely enjoyed seeing. The next moment he was as pleasant as warm Sunday breeze. She wondered how he could do it, how he could rid himself of the emotions he once wore so plainly on his sleeve and so fast. It was a wonder really, but somewhere deep down she knew a faint truth, that to be able to do that perhaps pain would always be the catalyst. She wondered what had turned the golden child. To her he portrayed a new form of living emerald, beautiful to see, valuable even. Her parents would be thrilled to learn of her new association.

At first she had questioned Draco's interest. Their shared past was no mystery, the whole school could attest to that. But after hearing that Draco had met with Harry on the train, that had drawn her full interest. She listened as Draco and Blaise quietly debriefed each other, both speculating on what they had seen and heard. They didn't share much, outside of veiled whispers, holding what they knew to their breast and amongst each other, a trait shared by most children in Slytherin but she knew that his interest had been piqued.

Now she knew why, his father would want him to attempt a friendship, a beautiful deception of emotion. She knew he would want eyes on the living question mark. She also knew that Draco would see it as an opportunity to step outside of his father's shadows. What she didn't expect was for Draco to extend his friendship; she had seen it when he extended his hand. She didn't like it but she couldn't blame him, they were similar. Similar enough to broker an alliance if only based on each other's honor. That was something they would value. If she were judging it on Harry's past self, but this new Harry, he was unknown.

She looked at Draco, admiring him a bit. His grey eyes flickered to her for a moment smirking slightly before turning back to watch the proceedings.

"Mr. Potter, thank you for your continued patience. His lordship Ragnuk the 4th will be with you soon." He paused and looked at Harry's companions. "Is there anything I can offer you and your associates whilst your wait?" The goblin asked, his lips baring slightly as he sneered the word associates, his feral looking eyes lounging on Draco and Pansy before turning back to the boy.

"We are fine for now." Harry said, his voice low. His new and old mind disregarding his once admirable fondness of the lesser folk. For that is what they were, he finally acquiesced, a very faint part of him revolting at the thought that now seemed natural. They were less, and he had no problem reminding them should he need to but right now duplicity would be his ally.

Filth his inner voice echoed.

He smiled to the goblin before him, slightly as the Goblin left the room.

Harry remained impassive. His face not registering the internal impatience that was jostling his thoughts. His defiance was halted with each possibility as he waited for the goblin to enter, each possible outcome that could arise from this impromptu but dually necessary meeting. He needed to know if he was financially capable of standing on his own, let alone capable of being granted an abide in relation to his current housing situation. The Goblin Federation stood separate from the wizarding ministry and in this they could act without repercussion meaning that they had total control of information they had and could pass it on, of course for a price, the sneaky creatures.

He had two important questions, could he get away without too much struggle and where did he stand financially. He was too young to work, so hopefully the rumors were true and his father's family was indeed wealthy. If they were, he would definitely question their acquiescence in his father's decision to marry outside of his class. Of course his birth was a definitive benefit, but the equanimity of the situation was a wonder. Pureblood and mudblood, bound in love and holy matrimony. His young and old mind shied from the thought, love. Even as a child he questioned its existence, of course in direct relation to himself. He heard it spoken of, practiced on others, but never, not once on him. Hatred was what he learned…

He was pulled from his rumination by the clearing of a throat. His red flecked green eyes snapped upward and trained on the Goblin ruler.

"Mr. Potter, it's a pleasure to finally meet you." The goblin said with a deep, gravelly voice his yellow eyes keenly watching the youth and his ilk. "It's also my pleasure to assist you today, shall we begin?"

There was a pause before the goblin began, drawing parchments from his desk as he disclosed the information Harry wanted to know.

* * *

Thought was invariably what would precede his entrance to the manor. Quick, though deep thought. Draco was pondering the silence that had purveyed the trio shortly before Harry withdrew and left their company; his face a replica of stone, only his eyes bled his thoughts, the windows to the soul. No, if they saw or even gleaned the faintest bit of emotion, it was most likely a ploy of some sort, something used to deceive the easily fooled. No, this Harry they had borne witness to was an enigma, something father would definitely want him to investigate; luckily he had initiated the interaction and thus could entertain his ploy.

Now he only had to disseminate and understand the information he was presented throughout the day. SO much, yet he couldn't make heads or tails of it. Pansy lounged in a chaise across from Draco, enjoying the vestige of a late summer afternoon. She idly ate some grapes, all the while sipping at some liquid the house elves had brought them, of course at their command. Draco though leaned back in his high backed outdoor chair, sipping at his cup of iced pumpkin juice, his free hands fingers strumming the arm rest, his eyes idly trailing a falling leaf. From the onset of their venture, Draco had decided he wouldnt succumb to summer boredom. That desire had been completed the moment he had seen Potter. Draco had his own reasons for befriending the boy-who-lived, the most plebian of which was because he deserved it. Harrys societal status rocketed forward with his victory in the Triwizard Tournament and with that his prestige and worth. Draco was a Malfoy, and should a rich or famous person be near, they deserved to stand by them, his status required it. Beyond that Draco was still investigating…

"What do you think is going on with him?"

Draco pulled himself from his thoughts, eyes darting to Pansy. "Hmm?"

"Potter? What do you think is going on with him?" She repeated.

Draco shrugged, an honest shrug. "I really don't know, but whatever caused the change, it started well before we left school."

"Really?" Pansy replied, shifting to rest on her side and elbow, her head resting in her palm. "How do you figure?"

Draco pursed his lips after taking a sip of his drink. "It's not as if a change like that can happen overnight, I mean if it can, then I'd certainly like to know how." Draco leaned forward.

"What about his magic?" Pansy followed up. "I know you felt it."

And there was the question he himself had. His magic.

Draco couldn't quite understand what happened when it happened. He couldn't explain the heaviness that had surrounded him when it did. In the moment Potter's magic leaked out, it was like an avalanche of raw undiluted power, enough to distort his thoughts and make his vision blurry. He had felt his head grow fuzzy, his body grow heavy, and rationality began to trickle away. He had to actually bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from completely succumbing to the noxious influence Potters magic claimed. Beyond that, in the same moment Draco had seen Potters eyes, the polluted emerald green accompanied by a void of nothing, only sheer malevolence and daring, disk like pupils that dilated unknowingly with the flow of his power…It was like he was begging for Draco to make a move, begging for the blonde to do something foolish enough to allow him to release his magic in full and leave Pansy short a head. Three weeks ago he would have laughed at the thought of Potter killing someone, but at that moment, he doubted his own preconception. He would kill her without hesitation.

He would never tell Pansy how close she had come, especially because it was his bravado that put them on the crux.

"I don't know Pansy." He said, looking up and at her, his eyes focusing on her own.

"It wasn't the magic you would expect to feel coming from a Gryfindork…"

"And who would you expect it to come from?" Draco asked.

Pansy chewed on her bottom lip for the briefest of moment before replying, "I suppose one of us, a Slytherin, if anyone."

"Did you forget, Pansy? He _IS_ a Slytherin now."

Panys's cheeks reddened in mild embarrassment. "I did." She didn't like making a fool of herself, let alone in front of the boy she fancied.

Disregarding her airy breath, Draco went back to his thoughts. The second time he encountered Potter's magic it was very similar to what happened before, yet invariably different. The second time, it was simply the fact that his magical presence was so great, great enough to cause a faint static charge in the air and unknowingly cause inanimate objects to float. The biggest surprise was that he had no idea it was happening which begged the question how powerful did the boy have to be to still have instances of accidental magic so great that it could disrupt wards his father had said the wand maker had erected decades ago. Draco knew without a question that what they witnessed was only the tip of the iceberg.

Draco was clear on one thing for certain, he had felt it in the air more than once during the day. A faint, almost unnoticeable malevolent taint lingering everywhere Harry was or had been, as if the ambient magic that permeated magical societies had been forced to accept his will and the feeling grew once Harry got his new wand.

"That wand…" Draco muttered with a shiver.

Before he could continue, he was distracted by a pop to his left; his grey eyes followed the sound before landing on a bowing house elf.

"Master and Mistress be wantin' yous at the dining table, young master." The creature said, only vanishing with a pop once Draco had given it a terse quick nod.

Draco only realized then how hungry he was. He had been so caught up in his thoughts that he had not paid his guest any attention; the low grumble from his stomach emphasized that. He knew dinner was a social affair, so rallying his thoughts and organizing his day, he proceeded to join his family, knowing full well his day would be scrutinized with a proverbial magnifying glass and tweezers. It was how his father was raised, and in turn how he was being raised.

Today would be different, he knew it, after all anything including Potter was always different.

* * *

 **A/N:** Well there it is, and luckily I actually have the next chapter started. So it's a bit more set up, but I wanted to start the beginning of Harry's association with other Slytherin's. Tell me what you all think about my depiction of Draco. Like I said, he knows how to maneuver, obviously not as well as his father but well enough. Harry Potter will get darker, much more so. I'm attempting to show his growing detachment. Harry will be evil, and with that will come so much more. As normal, thanks for read, please review.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N** : As normal, Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. That being said, I hope you all enjoy what is going to happen. Harry the Slytherin will be enacting some of his plans now and we will be seeing them either fail or come to fruition in the coming chapters. Read and Review. Positivity is much appreciated. If you don't like it, well there are 1000's of HP Fanfics.

* * *

 **Chapter 4.** Moving Forward

The evening had drug on. It had drug on far too long, so when his head touched his pillow, his body instantly relaxed and he felt the seductive embrace of sleep cling to him and pull him into her warm hold. Though even that had been fleeting as his sleep had been bothered by the consistent tapping of something against his window.

At times Severus questioned his meaning, his purpose. Everything had been so clear at one point, so perfectly planned that he reveled in its almost mathematical precision. Sighing softly, he drug himself from the comfort of his bed and made his way to the window, wincing slightly when he inadvertently stubbed his toe on the foot of one of his reading chairs. Dragging the blinds open, he stared at the offender, a willowy brown owl with large amber eyes stared back, clutched in one of its clawed feet was a rolled up piece of parchment.

After removing the parchment and shooing the animal away, Severus made his way back to his bed and sat on its edge, eyeing the seal of the letter. "Hogwarts" he mumbled before breaking the seal.

"Severus,

After some thought, I believe it is urgent we make a visit to Harry's home. With Voldemort being so brash so soon after his return, I cannot leave anything to chance. I must ensure that the protection he has will hold long enough for us to arrive, should the dark lord or any of his associates decide to attack him. I ask you to join me because of your unique position with Voldemort. You would be the best suited to help me in ensuring that we have done as much as we can in defending Harry and his family.

I thank you for your help in this, we will leave shortly past 6am this morning."

That was enough to make him regret waking up.

He stared petulantly at the parchment, willing the innocuous tartan object to die in flames, but gave up after a moment of the useless venture; he was no fire elemental after all. Releasing the parchment and letting it fall to the ground, Severus stood from the bed.

"Rosie" He all but whispered before an audible though faint pop accompanied his voice.

"Master calls for me?" The house elf asked her own voice heavy with the last vestige of sleep.

Severus turned to the elf, smiling slightly. Smiling…in and of itself was something considerably foreign outside the safety and comfort of his own home. He knew the rumors that existed about him. He heard what the students said and what some of them whispered about his dour expressions and constant foul moods. Foul moods, he mused, his moods weren't foul he just preferred a frank reality where in people said what they meant and life continued. It wasn't his fault that those dunderhead students could not fathom a life without drama. Really, some of his views crossed the threshold of irony, considering the double life he led.

Amidst his early morning revelry, he almost forgot that he had summoned his house elf. "I would like breakfast." He said flatly, his smile having faded as the house elf nodded and then vanished with a pop.

Ignoring the protest of his own body he exited the room while his elf prepared him something to eat. He was used to the absurd hours, yes, but that was by his own dealing, his own methods of madness. He savored the wee hours of the morning, the moments before the suns light spilled over the tops of the hills and mountains and cascaded down the green fields. He devoured the silence that swallowed him in those moments, when not even a bird made a noise, all was still. The deep greyish blue sky was a comfort to the man and it was in these hours he would profess that his greatest works had come to fruition. Twilight was his realm.

Though right now, this was not his feeling as he bathed himself quickly and exited the restroom. His momentary respite came from the smell of bangers and eggs. Smiling fondly at the elf he sat himself silently still contemplating how the day would go. Anything was possible, and that was his problem. He didn't exactly fear the unknown; he simply despised the multitudes of happenstance realities that could form. He liked to at least have a basic idea, but it seemed that, as of late, was something that was quickly vanishing.

Finishing his breakfast he stood grasping his wand from its forearm holster he muttered a quick tempus before deciding it would be best to head to the castle. So with a quick look around the dining room and a flick of his wand to make sure all the doors and windows were locked and his wards were up he vanished with a crack.

Hogwarts was always a site to behold, a true wonder that at times claimed him. It gave him a tingle because it was the first place he felt he had belonged. Home was less than favorable, and that was an understatement. He felt himself remembering the vile nature of that life, the insidious monotony his muggle father had lived. He hated the man…shaking his head he cleared away those thoughts. He could reminisce at another time.

Stepping forward, the gates opened automatically as he pressed ahead, taking the walk in silence.

Moments after entering the castle in full he turned towards the headmasters office. Now staring at the gargoyle he shook his head as he remembered the password "disco discs" he whispered in shame at the choice in passwords. Allowing the gargoyle to step aside, he entered the staircase and made his way upwards. Before he entered, he made notice of more than one voice before grabbing the door knob and entering.

"Severus, thank you for coming." Dumbeldore said.

'Like I had a choice.' He thought before nodding tersely, first to the headmaster then to Minerva.

"Severus."

"Minerva."

Greetings having been handled he turned back to the headmaster waiting for him to speak.

"You both received my letter so you are both aware of the nature of this visit." He paused for moment "I had not expected the Dark Lord to move so quick after his return. I had assumed he would wait for a moment, build his ranks subtly, similar to how he did last time. That being said, for now caution is the key. Harry must be protected at all cost. I know you have heard me speak of the blood wards tied to his family?"

"How do they work?" Severus questioned.

Dumbledore turned his eyes to the professor. "They are powered by association to the Dursley's, primarily his aunt. It's their shared blood that maintains it, but, and this is the important one, Harry must continue to call that place home. I have added more wards around the building as well as the neighborhood and continually powered them as bet as I could. There is a ward stone hidden nearby that ties them all together."

Severus' brow naturally raised a small smirk on his lips. Blood wards…he knew they were powerful but would never have believed that Dumbledore would employ the use of magic's so…shaded. Their very nature was a contradiction to what he lived and stood for. Pushing that aside he returned his attention to the headmaster.

"Now, explanation aside, are you both ready to go?"

Two nods and a quick flight down the stairs, the trio made their way past the gates before stopping.

"Minerva, if you would?" Dumbledore said.

McGonagall said nothing and only extended her arm. Severus grasped it gently before the three of them vanished with two cracks and a whisper of wind.

3 days since Harry left the Dursley's…

Three magical folk found themselves encumbered with this activity, one unwillingly, another all too willingly, perhaps in hopes of recompense and the last a bland belief that this was a necessity. That last individual stood in the middle of the group, cloaked in bright purple. One would have assumed someone would have told him how offensive those garish robes were to the eyes because the barer could not see his faux pas in fashion. Dumbledore was beyond reproach; who in their right mind would question one of the most powerful wizards to have lived? His companions, the dour depudity headmistress and her sour colleague found comfort in less conspicuous clothing, having chosen black for this venture. If asked, the pair would both respond very similarly, they had both learned to actively block out the headmasters fashion sense or lack of.

Releasing the forearm of Minerva, Severus looked around the empty street. The streetlights still lit with their yellow light buzzed monotonously, washing away the beauty of the mornings twilight and giving the neighborhood a weary and boring appearance. "Where are we?" He questioned, having side along apparated due to the fact that he had never visited this locale.

"We are on Privet Drive Severus." Minerva replied as the three began forward, only to stop when the headmaster did.

Albus had stopped at the point where the wards began. Something felt strange. He couldn't place it but shook it off before plunging forward, the two behind him following silently.

It was only moments before they were at the designated home.

"These muggles have no sense of self, do they?" Severus questioned, commenting on the identical homes and nearly identical vehicles, all baring only slight shows of individuality. His nose rose in protest as he turned his attention back to the home they were now in front of. They stood patiently as the headmaster knocked once, then twice, and then stood a foot or so away, obviously in expectation of something.

There was a slight ruffle of something followed by a series of clicks before the door opened partially exposing by far the fattest man Severus had ever seen. His beady black eyes washed over them quickly before opening comically. He would have laughed but the fat mans surprised muttering caught him off guard before they were gifted to a sudden show of expletives.

Vernon's surprise was warranted, who would have expected three wizards to arrive on their door step just after dawn?

"No, No, No!" he began. "I will not have your kind popping by my home as you please! You have no right to harass my family in this manner, no right sir, none!"

"Good morning to you as well Mr. Dursley." Dumbledore said with an almost serene smile belaying his own dislike for the man. "I apologize for calling on you and your family at such an hour, but we both know why we are here. I merely want to check on Harry, this past year was exceptionally difficult."

"I don't give a damn how difficult it was for that boy or any of you." He paused. "But that doesn't matter." He smiled coyly now. "The boy ist here."

Dumbledore's grandfatherly smile vanished. "Where is he?"

"I don't know nor do I care to know. Imagine my surprise when I went to fetch the boy only to find his room gone and his owl dead." He smiled in full now. "I don't know where he's gone or if he even left on his own and I don't care, he isn't my problem any longer."

Dumbledore felt his heart sink and in response his magic flared up.

Severus and Minerva stepped back in reaction, avoiding the sudden and unbelievably overwhelming deluge of power that threatened to squash them. It was like a tidal wave wrought with emotion as it remained barely contained. For a split second, Severus understood the reason why the dark lord respected the headmaster and this show was barely even a fraction of the Supreme Mugwumps ability.

Forgetting pretense Dumbledore pushed the man aside as he yelled in protest. Wands in their hands Severus and Minerva followed ignoring the fat man's protest, he wouldn't do anything anyways. Severus moved to the left in curiosity as Dumbledore marched straight up the stairs.

"Damn Potter." He muttered, his ire raised as he considered the childs actions. He obviously ran away, was his foolish conclusion as he perused the home noting with curiosity that it didn't seem like Potter even lived there. There were only pictures of the three Dursley's. Waving that off he looked around the living room before spotting the cupboard beneath the stairs. It wasn't anything special mind you, but the locks on the outside pulled at his curiosity. What did they lock in their? Perhaps a pet or something of the like. He approached the door and stood in front of it for a moment, feeling the pull of familiar magic before he opened it and peered inside, though it was too dark to see much.

With a quick Lumos he was able to view the inside in full. Slowly he looked around, completely unaware of his eyes widening in bleak realization. He felt his breathing speed up and his hand tighten on his wand. He took one more deep breath before suddenly pulling himself from the cupboard under the stairs.

Like a bat escaping light Severus exited the home, leaving the front door open as he struggled to waylay his own anger. 'Irrational.' He thought, Irrational for him to feel such a clear and precise emotion for a boy he attempted to loathe. Irrational for him to feel an overwhelming level of sympathy when he stared at the boy day in and day out and was constantly reminded of his gilded tormentor. Irrational for him to feel such a fraternal kinship to the boy who lived. But at that moment, the moment he had came from the room and felt himself drawn to the cupboard, the moment he had opened it and felt Potters lingering magic and viewed the broken little trinkets so neatly placed, the small trundle with a worn blanket and the scratched words in the wood 'Happy Birthday Harry' he knew…his stomach suddenly flipped and as he closed the door his eyes widened at the nail marks on the inside of the door…

Severus was aghast as he stood there breathing deeply. It was always speculation from Harry's slight form compared to those around him, it was always conjecture when he witnessed the boy shy away from normal touch, friendly affection. It was always with a pang of guilt he would watch as Harry flinched almost imperceptibly when he would shout at him, berate him.

But it all made sense to him now. The boy was a product of malice riddled abuse and conscious neglect. Not only by his supposed family, but by his guardians at the school. The people that were supposed to help him avoid this and that reality made his stomach sink as he realized that he was no better than these filthy muggle relitaves of his. He was no better than the lumaox that cared not for the disappearance of his nephew or the sour faced woman that bore no resemblance to Lily. Oh how he had failed her. His hate for James had controlled his actions and for that an innocent child had paid.

In the seconds he had come to that conclusion he couldn't help but to compare the similarities of their lives. He should have seen it sooner. He had dealt with this with many of his snakes, but he should have seen that Harry's show of heroism wasn't something he brandished carelessly, it was because he didn't want anyone to hurt the way he did and all he got in return was the whimsical deference of a world that hailed him a conquering hero one moment and a despot the next.

But that wasn't the worst of it. The worst of it came from the aged educator he called a mentor in some respect. His black eyes moved quickly up as they met blue. And in those blue eyes there was no sparkle, no sheen.

"You knew, didn't you?"

"I had my suspicions."

"Yet you did nothing." It wasn't a question, it was a clear accusation. "You did nothing for him. Year after year I would hear him plead to not return…" He looked around before sweeping his arm forward "…here. I thought he was simply being a spoiled brat, trying to manipulate you into doing what he wanted because of how closely you guarded him, how fond you were of him but that was never the case..."

Severus paused shaking his head. How had Harry not been sorted into Slytherin immediately? It had to have been a desire for acceptance, which was almost always the case for most individuals of this circumstance. But even that had been crushed years later. Now his actions at the end of term made some sense though he still would admit he didn't fully understand what it all meant. His jaws were clenched tight as he stared at the headmaster.

Who would have guessed that the morning would turn out like this? His eyes darted to Minerva whom he could see was shaken by the revelation. Her eyes narrowed ferociously at the headmaster. She was truly a lion, and to her the boy was her cub and all the motherly instinct of the predator was born in her face. He knew she hadn't been aware and that was what saved her from his own anger. But still he couldn't help but feel a deep loathing, not for any of them, but for himself. His disgust was reflected back to him and there was no level of rationale that could sway his thoughts.

Severus was a flawed man, he would admit it though only after a certain amount of niggling but then again all humans were. He couldn't help his dislike of James Potter, but he could certainly take a step towards the right, maybe less disdain or consternation, though even he had to admit that all the years of malcontent would most likely haven taken root and Harry would not accept.

Oh how utterly and inconceivably right he was. The Harry he could have helped no longer existed.

* * *

Silence was a brilliant reprieve from the activity of the day past. Harry lay in his bed, eyes focusing on a knot in the wood roof, his breath soft, silent, and measured. He reminisced the day before, consolidating his thoughts as he corralled his disdain and attempted to see the big picture.

The goblins had only been able to answer half of his request; though he was rallied by the fact that in his trust vault he had more than enough to care for himself and should he use it in full, it would be replenished by the myriad of vaults his father's family had, he was reined in by the lack of an answer to the quagmire he found himself in. He had been led to believe that the goblin federations hands could be used to help him navigate the corridors of the ministry, that maybe they could give him an avenue of leverage. That had been wrong, their goals, quite simply were rooted in money, and proffering open opposition to ruling decrees instituted by the Ministry did not suit their interests. Their relationship with the wizarding society was tenuous at best and they understood that their grasp on wizarding funds is what kept open hostility for their kind, their existence, hidden behind the proverbial closet doors.

In short, if Harry could not figure out a solution before his absence was noticed, he would find himself back in the Dursley's, and if he was certain of one thing it was that murder would occur soon after. Quelling the sudden torrent of anger towards his situation and hatred for his extended family he sat up, reaching for his glasses on the night stand before sweeping his eyes around the room, stopping at the window.

Freedom would remain his at any cost.

Resolve filling him, he left the bed and went straight to the desk, all the while grasping his wand before unrolling a blank piece of parchment, quill in hand replacing his wand that rested a few inches away. Preparing himself, he unstoppered his ink well and dipped the quill before pausing his hand over the parchment. What he wrote had to outwardly provide benefit for both though covertly service his purposes absolutely. He had to go beyond piquing interest; he had to instill the desire to acquiesce without question simply because he didn't have the time to bandy words via owl post. The letter had to feed ego, while not appearing overly ostentatious. It required finesse in duplicity he had yet to have practiced but he was forced to learn on the go.

The merger seemed to be nearing its end as he was barely able to tell what was the old and what was the young. It was because of the merger he was able to marshal a more elegant script as he wrote what he thought would suffice.

It took a short while, though with a quick tempus Harry noted that it was rounding on 6:45a. The letter had to work, though were he honest he was truly relying on the individuals apparent idiocy. It would be easier to draw pity while allowing his image to be used to bolster their campaign. He was certain that the Minister would be easy to pull into his fold, Dumbledore did this easy enough, though if the papers were anything to go by, it seemed that relationship was sailing in rough waters and right now was the perfect time to proverbially choose a side, whatever side served his purpose. Beyond that he now had to find a place to stay.

The goblins had promised to send him a list of his father's family's estates. He had asked if his mother had any but they were unable to answer that question in full because his mother had never submitted a sample of blood, despite being given the offer, an offer expressly given to purebloods. That piqued his own interest since he only knew of his aunt and beyond that, never a mention of maternal grandparents. It would be easy enough to research his father's family, though now he had decided to research his mothers. Perhaps they had some claim in the muggle world, though he doubted it. Pushing those thoughts aside he drew another piece of parchment and unrolled it preparing to write another letter. This one would be simple enough. Quill to parchment once more, he began and finished much sooner than the last. Rolling both letters up and sealing them he stood from his desk ad decided he should cleanse himself. Quickly performing his morning ablutions, he dressed in all black once more, pulling his hood over his head and placing his new wand in its holster, he left the room, locking it quickly and making his way to the keeper of the inn.

Tom took notice of Harry as he approached and greeted him with a smile. "Morning Sir, how may I help you?"

Harry withdrew the rolled up parchment, "I'm in need of an owl, would you know where I could borrow one?"

Tom nodded, this individual was very matter of fact, no desire for small talk. He supposed though, that the strangers apparently deep pockets were enough to look past his cloak and dagger personage. It was common for him to interact with individuals that desired to stay anonymous so if pandering to that demographic brought him more business then who was he to shy away from money? No a simple fool of course, and it was along that line that Tom nodded his head and ducked out of the bar and in to a backroom leaving Harry waiting at the bar for a few moments before he returned with a small grey owl with amber eyes darting here and there.

"Here you go sir." He said as he nodded to the owl on his shoulder.

Harry eyed it for a moment before giving Tom his parchments.

"Right sir, there we go. I'll make sure that if he is sent back with any response that it's waiting for you here."

Harry nodded in silence before turning away and retreating from the bar and its keeper. Making his way to the back, he drew his wand, a small smile crossing his lips as he felt its cold embrace. Smile fading he tapped the bricks in the necessary pattern before crossing the threshold into Diagon Alley. Hood securely hiding his face, Harry joined the early risers. For now his goal was simple, he had to get to Knockturn Alley. His blunder from the day before had to be fixed, and in doing so he had to ensure that he would not be held liable, though he wondered if anyone would actually look. Aside from that Borgin's and Burkes was a veritable gold mine in illicit knowledge that could help him moving forward.

Knowing his self-assigned goal he made his way to the shop determined not to go astray this time.

* * *

Minerva had felt loss before. She had dealt with the pain that came from that loss. She had had to nurture a stoic face and build around herself a shell of humble benevolence so she could give the school and its students a smile, a sure smile that emanated her confidence and assurance. The fact that she was a token figure of power, strength, and stability did not give her the time to mourn her losses properly, and it was because of that, this loss stung worse than the others.

The trio stood in the living room of the Dursley residence. They were accompanied by the now woken remainder of the Dursley family and an obviously hungover Mundungus Fletcher. Silence permeated their immediate surroundings, silence thicker than worst of fogs, a silence that rang in the ears like a muted bell clanging a mournful melody. Were Minerva alone, she would have let herself descend into panic, but now, for the sake of her cub she would maintain this sound resolve, her lips thin, her eyes domineering, there was no love in her poise, no ounce of mercy or compassion. Right now she was a lioness, and they were less than prey.

It was by focusing her ire on the Dursleys and Mundungus that allowed her the ability to avoid lashing out at Dumbeldore for his part in this. Her deep green eyes pierced the alcoholic and assessed his worth but found less than nothing.

"Where were you?" She asked, her voice like ice…

Mundungus looked up with blood shot baleful eyes. His head hurt, his body ached, his mouth tasted terrible and were he honest, he would admit that he was still drunk, but honesty was not a virtue the ignoble bastard subscribed to.

"Where was I? What you mean? I've been here." He slurred in response.

Minerva's nose wrinkled in obvious disgust. He was so drunk that he had never seen anything amiss. This was the rubbish Dumbeldore trusted... "So you were here when Harry vanished? You were here when whoever came in killed the owl and left with him?" Her voice dripped with venom, her lips curled in hate as her eyes swiveled to the Dursleys. "And you two thought nothing about the absence of your own nephew?"

"Now see here…" Vernon began but was cut short.

"Shut up you insipidly vile mockery of human rubbish. How dare you attempt to rebuke me for caring about a boy you were meant to protect, meant to love. How could you have treated him with such contempt? How could you have taken what was young and innocent, taken what was small and weak and chucked it in to a cupboard…"

"We didn't ask for this!" Petunia cut in.

"No you didn't but he was your sisters son, your nephew. He had no choice in this, no choice in what happened to his parents." Minerva shook her head. "So much makes sense…he was always quieter than most, smaller than the other students, and I wondered why. Now I have my answer. I told Albus you lot were the worst sort of muggles imaginable, just look at that fat son of yours."

"You will not…" Vernon began, again, but was silenced by Minervas quick flash of woodwork as a streak of blue shot from its tip, catching him square in the chest, the fat man slumping back into the couch unconscious. Petunia squeaked in surprise and fear while Dudley yelped and tried to hide by his mother

"If either of you speak out of turn again, the same will happen…"

"Minerva." Dumbeldore spoke causing the deputy headmistress to halt in her tirade.

With the witch quelled, the headmaster turned back to the muggles and mundungus, catching Sevurus distatste out of the corner of his eyes.

"I'm disappointed Petunia. You remember the promise you made? You broke it…" his voice was low and somber. "I felt something strange when I approached the home though I wasn't sure how to discern what I was feeling, but now I'm sure. What I felt was the actual disintegration of the blood wards that protected Harry, you, and your family. The wards would only degenerate like this if Harry stopped thinking of this place as home, and of you as his family."

"Good!" Petunia clipped. "I don't care that he doesn't think of us as family anymore. Good! You can take his things or we can throw them out but he is not returning here from wherever he is."

Dumbeldore sighed after hearing the petulant woman. Lifting his arm and sliding his glasses up a bit, he brought his thumb and finger to the bridge of his nose under his glasses and rubbed it gently, feeling the full weight of his age. "You are a terrible person Petunia." He began, both Severus and Minerva's eyes showing their surprise at his words. "I should have listened to Minerva all those years ago, but I had hope. I hoped that you would see reason and treat him as your own, but I was wrong. " He paused and stared deeply into Petunia's eyes, the woman shrinking from his glare. "The wards around this home will fall soon. The wards I erected will follow them soon after." His face lost its grandfatherly guise as he continued, voice clear and precise "By your own admission, you have never cared for Harry, and because of that he concluded that this was not his home. The protection that was afforded to him by the simple act of familial association was also extended to you and your family. You should worry, because now there will be nothing. For your actions I will not expend my energy or ask anyone else to do the same to aid you. You are on your own, and you should know…the Dark Lord that killed Lilly and James, is back and he will be looking for Harry."

With that Dumbledore finished, letting his voice fill the room before he turned to Mundungus. "You will do nothing, you will say nothing, you will not act out of character or try to sneak away. You will have words with us all." He finished and waited for the drunk to nod back before shooing him from the home with only the nod of his head. Once the man was gone Dumbledore stood straight before abruptly turning around and making his way from the room and exiting the house completely.

"What about my husba-" Petunia was cut short by the slammed door.

Turning around to face his professors he drew his wand and flicked it, casting a silent tempus.

"Albus…" Minerva began but stopped as Dumbledore rose his hand.

"I know you have many questions and I will answer what I can, but not now. We have to gather the others and meet at the place." He looked at Severus and then Minerva. "Harry is alive, that much I know."

"How do you know this?" Severus asked.

"I just do." Dumbledore replied before turning around making his way down the street. "I need to deactivate this runestone. Without Harry here it's unnecessary and could be used for ill purpose." Severus nodded in agreement.

The trio made their way to the empty alleyway though Dumbledore visibly shrunk from it, unsure. He approached with caution before drawing his wand and prodding it. He could only chuckle lightly…

"There is nothing here for me to undo." His voice was deep, grave, distant and forlorn. The stone had all but lost its power and he knew someone had tampered with it. How, he didn't care to guess, but whoever had done it had succeeded in ensuring that Harry's absence was not missed.

It was with that that they vanished…

* * *

The scent of mint permeated the air, flowing gently and intertwining with the faint scent of lavender and vanilla. The house, per norm was clean, exceptionally so, though maintained its aristocratic splendor. It was his home, the grey stone walls, cut with finesse. The crafted plaster carved around visible brick that led into flowing marble. The hallways remained as inviting as any room, littered with the obvious show of exponential wealth. Along the walls of the hallways, paintings graced the eyes, painting of relatives spanning across time, their own sibilant grey eyes watching him and his companion as they made their way through Malfoy manor.

Draco and Pansy, from their appearance, had only woken moments ago. "Good morning Draco." The voice paused. "I trust you slept well Miss Parkinson?"

Draco's stopped short as he turned to his father, the elder Malfoy having stepped from an antler room to their right. His father of course portrayed the magnificence of their family, the beauty of the male line captured in the movements of Malfoy the greater. He was poise and ingenuity captured in flowing alabaster, like a statue made man. He admired his father and his grace and deeply desired to mirror his elder. To Draco he was the model of a true wizard, proud, noble, powerful, respected, and feared. A brilliant politician, a master dueler, and a silver tongued enigmatic speaker. He was truly his idol.

"Good morning…father." Draco paused aware that they had never had a chance to speak on his comings and goings. He glanced at Pansy briefly whom understood it was her turn to speak.

"Good morning my lord." She said with a small smile and short curtsy.

Lucius eyebrow rose slightly, catching the hesitation, interesting he thought. His son rarely subscribed to trepidation, he was a Malfoy after all, maybe a bit arrogant but he was still a boy, and arrogance ran rampant, time would help smooth out the wrinkles in his personage.

"Since we did not have the chance to catch up yesterday, you can tell me about your day over breakfast." Lucius followed up, sweeping past the pair with a slight nod to Pansy as he did.

Knowing his father allowed him to understand the meaning behind his father's words, both obvious and veiled. That was a summons, not out rightly, but he knew he should make his way to the dining room. The pair made their way to the room, following slowly behind his father; as they approached the table Draco pulled out a chair for Pansy, letting her sit before pushing it in and taking a seat beside her. Whether he was at home or in public, he knew to espouse manners, especially in front of his father. He had learned long ago to maintain an heir of dignity, no matter the surrounding. His father had already taken his seat.

"Where's mother?" Draco asked, though the patterned click of heels answered his question as his mother entered the dining room through a pair of French doors to his left. If his father was handsome then his mother was beauty defined, even at 8:30am. Her blonde hair was pulled back, flowing freely over her right shoulder and down. A streak of black came from each temple, reminiscent of her maiden names sake adding to the intrinsic beauty the clung to each subtle curve of her body. She bore the figure of a young woman, supple and toned, hidden underneath a slightly form fitting summer dress. As she came to the table, she removed her shawl from her shoulders and hung it over the back of her chair, waiting momentarily as Lucius stood and drew the chair for his wife, allowing her to sit with grace before he pushed it inward for her. Her deep blue eyes turned to her husband, a soft smile gracing her deep red lips, before sliding over to Pansy and finally resting on Draco.

"Did you enjoy sleeping in?" She asked softly, maintaining her smile.

Before he could answer, Draco was interrupted by the arrival of food. The house elves martialed in, their eyes down as they served their masters before leaving the room. Draco waited patiently as his father and mother began, waiting for their signal for him to speak. It was a show of respect he would always afford his parents.

His father wiped his lips as he turned to Draco, "So, what did the two of you get up to yesterday?" He said brusquely. His own thoughts weighing down his mind, he was still confounded by the Dark Lords task

"Well…" Draco paused, looking down at his food as he pushed some scrambled eggs around with his fork. His thoughts stirred as he wondered about the possible reaction his parents would have when they learned of his days exploits. Pansy remained silent, eating with the grace and elegance expected of pureblood heiress. "Our day started simple enough. We ambled through the alleys, waiting for Zabini until we received an owl saying that he wouldn't be coming. From there we weren't sure what to do, but as luck would have it, we were given a means of entertainment." He paused looking between his father and mother.

"Oh? And what was this means?" Narcissa asked.

"None other than Harry Potter and he was leaving Borgin and Burkes."

His father hid his surprise well, his eyes widening slightly before he took his glass and sipped at his mimosa. "Potter, eh? Leaving that establishment? That is curious." His voice remained as impassive as his face though his mind was a lit with possibility. How he loved fate, especially when she shined her face on him. The weight he felt on his shoulders seemed to abate as possibility became reality. He only needed to formulate a cognizant plan and his son would be the means to enacting it. He smiled inwardly, returning his attention to the children.

"Very much so." Pansy voiced.

"Yes, well we tried to follow him out of curiosity." Draco continued.

"You were sneaking about Draco?" Lucius questioned.

"We figured Potter wouldn't tell us what he was doing so we thought it the best option, at least until we were caught." Draco said.

"Potter caught you?" Lucius asked, his own curiosity piqued.

"Yes and we were both surprised by that." Draco continued. "He had disillusioned himself and hidden in an alley."

"He used magic openly?" Narcissa asked, surprised.

"Yes." Pansy answered. "We were surprised too, but we found out that he wasn't using his own wand which explained why he was able to."

"He's stolen a wand to circumvent the trace?" Lucius asked with faint interest.

"No, father, he took it." Draco said. "He said that he killed the original owner with the owner's wand." Draco finished his eyes wide.

"Impossible, the boy is a bleeding heart. A Gryffindor bred thoroughly. The headmaster's old hands are wrapped around him so tightly that the thought of murder would probably make the boy cry in a corner." Narcissa rebuked, unaware of the information Lucius, Draco, and Pansy were privy to. She had been in Italy for the last week, so it was only natural she was unaware.

"You're wrong mother." Draco inserted.

"Yes Narcissa, in your absence quite a few interesting occurrences came to pass, the most interesting being Harry Potter isn't the Gryffindor we thought but is a snake after our own hearts." He smirked sarcastically.

"What do you mean?" She asked, eyes moving between Draco and Lucius.

"Potter is a Slytherin." Lucius replied.

Narcissa almost guffawed, though stopped herself with her hand to her mouth. "I see you two have conspired to play a joke on me." She said softly, though her smile was stiffened by the lack of mirth in Lucius's eyes.

"You're being serious?"

"Yes we are." Said Lucius.

Her eyes widened. "How?"

"The boy enacted one of the old laws and Dumbledore was forced to acquiesce."

"Yes mum, before that I would have doubted it too, but somethings made Potter change, drastically so."

Lucius listened with interest, as did Narcissa. His interest was piqued by his sons own wonder. Draco had once espoused deep hatred for the boy, but now, it was akin to curiosity, a curiosity that he could feel building within himself. "Do tell." He said, nodding to his son.

Draco looked to Pansy and back to his parents. "I'm not certain how or why, but the Potter before the final task is completely different from the Potter we know now, at first I thought it was only in his language but after spending the day with him, I can say with certainty that it is much more. He bears a mask of indifference that could rival the best." Draco paused and took a sip of his water. "We went with him to get a new wand, and his disdain for the shop and impatience for old man Ollivander was far too obvious. I really don't understand what we saw yesterday, but one thing was certain, his magic was ever present." He paused looking over to Pansy.

"His magic? What do you mean?" Lucius asked.

This time it was Pansy that spoke. "Well…When he caught us following him, there was a moment that I couldn't understand. Draco was standing at the opening of the alley calming Harry down while Harry had his arm around my neck and his wand at my throat. I've seen him when he was angry and I'm certain most people have felt him when he was angry, but this was different. There was something else. I won't assume to believe that I can sense magic half as well as Draco, but for a moment it felt like I was being swallowed whole. I couldn't think clearly nor could I breathe properly, maybe it was because I was scared or nervous, but his magic engulfed everything around me, the world was heavy and it felt like I was struggling to stay standing let alone awake."

Draco listened to Pansy echo his own thoughts during that moment and the description was apt enough for him to nod in agreement. He hadn't had a chance to think through that moment but she described the extent of what he felt clear enough for him to conclude that it really was Harry's power. Harry's power that was already pretty great had leaped by bounds into a realm he couldn't fathom though one thing was clear, Harry had almost no control over it and that was obvious by how it leaked out with his emotion.

"I don't think he can control it yet, though." Draco said, voicing his thoughts.

That was interesting, Lucius thought. Draco had told him that despite his disagreements with the boy, Harry was powerful. Lucius could only agree, Potter had to have some degree of power to be able to defeat the Dark Lord as a baby and continue on to make it through the tournament. But what Pansy described was the noxious effect of awesome power coupled by a true killer intent. He had felt something familiar emitted by the Dark Lord, and he could agree with the young lady, it was something fear inducing, to say the least. Was it possible that whatever happened during the tournament unlocked whatever hidden potential lay dormant in Potter? He didn't begin to think of any other possibilities, it wouldn't do to let his mind become encumbered by what ifs. He had a mission, and his son was the answer to it. But curiosity would eventually win out since killer intent was not something he thought the young ex-Gryffindor would ever have.

Draco watched his father and knew he was thinking something; it was his nature to always have a plan. He turned from his father and back to Pansy as she continued. "That wasn't the only time we felt his power. When we went with him to get a new wand, he made everything around him float without realizing what he was doing, not only that but we felt the air itself crackle as his power dissolved the wards that Ollivander had erected like they were nothing. It's almost like he was a child again and having fits of accidental magic. It was very strange." She finished.

"Very strange, indeed." Narcissa echoed.

Draco nodded in agreement noting that Pansy had said nothing about his eyes. The fact that during those moments, those instances of exposed power the green eyes that everyone always commented on were dyed a deep, faintly glowing reddish color, like two smoldering coals of pure loathing and hate. It was the eyes, more than anything else that made Draco double think any foolish action as in those moments, he could tell the most that Harry Potter was not who he thought he was.

"That is all quite interesting indeed." Lucius spoke. "So you spent the remainder of the day with Potter?"

"Yes, father. Nothing else really happened. He bought a new wand because his was broken and I guess he didn't want to continue using the wand he had. After that we went to Gringotts, but I'm not certain what he did there, we waited outside of the room."

"I see. What prompted this then?"

Draco's brow rose as he pondered the answer he would give his father. "Well, he is our new house mate and since we have set aside our differences, I saw it only fitting that I should establish a friendship with him, assert my myself before someone else has the opportunity to do so."

His father nodded in agreement, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Very good." He expected nothing less of his heir. "It would do all of us well if you kept an eye on him. Perhaps you can instruct him in the finer points of the world he has just joined. Influence him in the right direction. I assume it shouldn't be that hard, considering the furthering rift between the old man and his ex-golden boy." Lucius finished.

His previously unknown plan now taking shape admirably, Lucius mentally sighed as he felt the pressure lessen. Now, he only needed his boy to do as instructed and all could end well enough.

* * *

His green eyes darted up and down the alleyway before he drew his new wand and tapped it against the door before whispering the unlock word and entering the virtually empty shoppe. The smell of stale air permeated by aging wood and books assaulted his nose as he breached the entryway and came forward. He slowly walked onward, perhaps a bit too cautiously, but the old and young mind had come to understand that erring on the side of caution was always beneficial, besides that, Borgin and Burkes was clearly a domicile of the dark and there was no telling what lingered around the corners. His eyes searched the store as he made his way through the empty isles, alone and unencumbered, this time he could take in the strange artifacts and odd items. He could absorb and internalize the feeling of dark magic that permeated random objects, make him more familiar with the strange and esoteric.

He perused with an air of casualness and comfort he didn't get while he was here last. His hands flittered through the tomes around him, feeling with his magic and searching with his eyes as he felt the lingering bite of others magic. It was a strange sensation the merger brought to him. When he left Privet Drive he had resolved to further study it, learn this seemingly acquired ability and see what all it meant. Thus far the ability had enabled him to faintly sense wards as well as innate magic and magic placed on items. He couldn't differentiate between the magic's, where people were concerned, but he was certainly able to notice the difference between his own magic and other peoples.

The sensation was something new yet familiar. He understood that the possibility of the power expanding and growing was very real, so it was nothing more than a small concern at the moment. A concern he could waylay for the time being, considering the immediate issues and their chance at affecting his life. He continued to meander, stopping at the same orb, the Palantir. He could feel its intrinsic strength greatly accompanied by the sensation that this thing was important. He was drawn to it, bt reserved himself as he decided that he would return and get it at a later time. Nobody was going to be coming in anytime soon.

With the conclusion of his meandering and reminiscing of memory's he decided that it was time to venture below. It was time to attend to the true issue, the dead body in the basement.

Coming to the door he stopped in front of it, his resolute persona meandering in the whimsical guilt and naivety that would accompany a person of his age. He stopped by the singular thought of the death he had created, the murder he had committed. With it he had ventured into a world he had never contemplated. As venerable his youth and experience pervaded, he was still a boy a boy tried to an extent, but never pushed to venture into a world he did not know. It was the youth in him that paused, afraid for the briefest of moments. The weakness that the teachings of the others had given him. His soft breath rattled though his thin body, causing his ribs to expand before a sudden still caught them and the fear in his eyes vanished, repossessed by that all-encompassing crimson. He would not allow himself to meander in such feelings. They were a distraction he could not afford in this growing, dark world, so he stepped forward and opened the door before descending the flight of steps.

There it was the alabaster death mask of the owner of the shop. He pressed forward and watched carefully, circling the figure. It wasn't as if he was going to dissect him. That in all honestly was more than abhorrent, especially due to the mess it would make, so he stopped and mulled. In those moments the old whispered slave whilst the young asked inferi? For a second Harry mused and decided he would leave him here, possibly hire another to hold on to the shop whilst he was at school and then return when he had the capability of creating his own.

Deciding that was the best course of action he left the shop quickly, making sure he was unseen and this time warding the place with the knowledge of the old mind, though it left Harry panting a bit because his magic, though massive and yet to be tested, was not as mature as his mind.

As he went back to the inn, his eyes couldn't help but look around. He felt he was being watched…it was unsettling.

"I will never fear." He muttered to himself.

What the boy hadn't realized was that he had no hood. He was clearly in the public eye and everyone was staring at the boy who lived, clothed in complete black, from head to toe, in robes that were more immaculate than they were used to seeing him in. As he entered the tavern Tom's eyes snapped up and his eyes grew wide. "Harry Potter." He muttered…

'No' Harry thought as he realized what had happened.

His secrecy had failed him for a moment. He hadn't thought. He had simply acted and moved, but now, all that he had tried, all he had wanted was going to crash down. He stared at the man, his eyes narrowing as all eyes turned to him. "I sent out two owls has anything arrived?"

It was Tom who put two and two together and nodded. Though surprised peppered his actions he tried to hide it. Harry Potter had stayed there quietly, under an assumed alias, and he had no idea. He turned and left the bar, quickly bringing out two rolled up sheaf of parchment. Quickly, while everyone watched Harry read them, two individuals stood and begun to make their way to him. Harry's free hand dropped into his pocket, grasping his wand…

"Its best we leave Mr. Potter, as your hiding has been undone."

It was Lucius. Harry looked to him, then the other figure, Draco. He simply nodded as they both turned to head to the floo before five more figures entered the tavern, wands drawn. In their lead was an aged man, hard blue eyes, and wand in hand.

The old man looked just that, though his power was great. It flooded the room and all felt it. Lucius gripped Harry and Draco's shoulders, his cold grey eyes watching, calculating. He could never face him and win; he could never expect to defeat his entire entourage. He was alone, only his son and his now ward. The letter had expressed Harry's desire, and he would willingly comply. Harry under his hand was like a blessing. But this was unexpected. As the headmasters power washed through the room he felt a flitter. It was something familiar…'the day in the graveyard' he thought. He looked to Harry, his face barely hiding his anger as the power that radiated from him began to expand. It was like a miasma of rage and a tidal wave of anger, so deep and callously cold, and dark; darker than he would expect. He gripped Harry's shoulder tighter hoping to calm him but it didn't work. It was growing. The headmaster couldn't see this.

But now Lucius knew what Draco had said. There was potential in Harry, barely controlled, but he would do what he could. Perhaps the Dark Lord could mold this boy? No, Harry probably wouldn't want nor acquiesce to that.

"Harry, we've been looking for you my boy." Dumbledore said.

"I didn't want to be found." Harry replied.

The headmaster watched the boys eyes narrow dangerously. This wasn't the young man he knew. This boy had edge, this boy had anger…this boy…he paused in his thoughts as his eyes widened a fraction, finally feeling it…he had power and suddenly he felt sorrow. He had allowed this to happen. He had allowed Harry's anger to win through. He sighed inwardly.

"They are not healthy for you, Harry." He said.

"Pease come with us." Remus echoed.

"Pup." Sirius replied, all eyes falling on the escaped convict though he didn't care, that boy was like his son.

"And you are?" Harry finally replied. "How many times have I almost died with you all?" He continued.

"Harry" Dumbledore replied.

"How, many?" Harry asked again.

This time Dumbledore's power flared…"Lucius, he is coming with us." His voice carried power and strength but before Lucius could respond; they all felt the miasma of power that they felt earlier. It was like a sudden rush of water that wafted over them like a massive blanket as Harry yelled "No." before turning to Lucius and the trio vanishing.

Dumbledore was at a loss. He had felt that power a long time ago, he had felt that hatred a long time ago, but this time it was different, it was greater and it was dark. He didn't know what to say to anyone except to slowly drop his arm.

"What do we do?" Arthur asked.

"Albus!" Sirius yelled.

"We can do nothing right now." Albus replied, his eyes on the area they had apparated from. Three person apparition was hard, but it had to be Harry that helped. He stayed still feeling it, feeling the power that had washed over them. Harry had changed, and he felt sad because he felt he facilitated that change.

* * *

With a crack and not a pop the trio reappeared outside of Malfoy manor. They were immediately enveloped by anger and malice. Power that they didn't know or understand. The anger and rage they felt made Lucius and Draco nauseous as they staggered away. They stared at Harry; Lucius seeing it now, his crimson eyes and intense strength.

"Harry." Draco called…

It didn't work.

"HARRY!" he called again, this time drawing the boy's attention. His crimson gaze turned to the silver haired boy, burning fiercer than he had ever seen them. They were two raging flames surrounded by a slight rim of yellow; pupil's dilated so small they were almost invisible. Lucius saw it too and for the briefest of moments felt an increasing rise in worry. Power, anger, rage, pure and sheer hatred, so much more than malice, sinister...this is what Draco had truly meant. A desire to rip everything in his path apart…Harry though, suddenly realized what was happening. He took a deep breath and attempted to calm himself. The power began to fade, and the world for Lucius and Draco began to return to normal. Harry eyed them both.

"How did you know to be there?"

Lucius eyed the boy wonder. His power was astounding. In time he could become a monster of strength but he took a breath and smiled.

"I received your letter. That being said I went to tavern and waited. It's a good thing too, I fear what would have happened should you have been alone."

"Me too." Harry replied.

Lucius smiled now in earnest. He had Harry Potter in his roof, and more than that…his power. He looked to the house and spoke, "Welcome to Malfoy manor, Lord Potter."

Draco walked over a small cautious smile on his lips "You'll enjoy it, I'm sure of it."

* * *

A/N: I hoped you all liked this chapter as I have decided to wind things up a bit. It's time for Harry to learn how to be a real Slytherin, as well as for Lucius to attempt to understand what has happened to boy. I figured the Malfoy family would be the easiest to use especially because this is a situation that he wuld never pass up. It meets the requirements of Voldemort. Lucius may or may not try something stupid, that will have consequences, plus I will show what Harry wrote in both letters. So, let's see how Harry and the Malfoys interact and also how the Order of the Phoenix will react. As always R and R.


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